


The Empyrean

by vislokawitch



Series: Into the Eternal Darkness [3]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angel Wings, Angst, BAMF Lucifer, Deckerstar burns out into the hell-ash, God’s A+ Parenting, Heaven, Hell, Hopeful Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Michael is a mother-hen, Multi, a new dawn after the darkest night, baby angel, pet shelter for stray angels, some comics’ influences, the Devil’s nesting habits, twin archangels of mayhem and mischief
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2020-12-29 01:04:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 56,037
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21146189
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vislokawitch/pseuds/vislokawitch
Summary: Continuation of“The First Terrace of Purgatory”.God has a Plan, the angels are swarming... the Devil is not impressed and neither is Michael. Meanwhile, Linda gives birth to a baby angel. The celestial shenanigans ensue at full force.Chloe Decker judges them all, even though she probably shouldn’t...





	1. Darkness in Paradise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Standard disclaimer:** I don’t own Lucifer. English is not my first language so sorry in advance for any mistakes. 
> 
> Hi, welcome to the third and last installment of “Into the Eternal Darkness” series. This story won’t make any sense without reading the first two. The credit for the chapter title belongs to Candlemass. 
> 
> I hope I didn’t scare anyone off with the ending of “The Purgatory” but I promise it all will make sense in the end. I’ll do my best to put all characters from pieces. Kind of :P But I’m starting now with some tough love from the Devil. 
> 
> **Content warning:** description of injury

The seemingly countless crowds of tourists mill around Santa Monica Pier, enjoying the cerulean sky and light breeze coming from the ocean. None of them is aware that three men leaning against the railing are not men at all – they’re angels. Pretty poor examples of their kind as they’re all fallen but they’re angels nonetheless.

“You think she’ll come?” asks Amenadiel for the umpteenth time, much to his younger brother’s annoyance.

“Do I look like a clairvoyant to you?” sniffs Lucifer. “She said, she’ll be here at noon,” he makes a show of looking at his Rolex. “It’s an 11:58. We’ll find out soon enough.”

“Speak of the archangel and she shall appear,” says Michael with humor.

The other two look in the pointed by him direction and, indeed, there’s archangel Raphael marching briskly toward them. At first glance, she doesn’t stick out from the crowd but there’s something about her that makes humans realize subconsciously that she’s not one of them. They scamper like sparrows before a falcon to let her pass. She pays them no mind whatsoever, focused on her brothers.

She’s almost as tall as them and with her olive skin, and thick black hair she could pass as someone of Turkish descent. She’s dressed smartly in a white pantsuit and a royal blue blouse – Lucifer notices it’s exactly the same color as her wings would be if she unfurled them. Well... she always had an impeccable taste in clothing. Before the Rebellion they liked to exchange fashion tips.

Raphael halts in front of them.

“Hello,” she says, nodding politely. “I’m glad you agreed to meet me.”

“How could we refuse when the new ruler of Heaven wishes to grace us with her presence,” Lucifer grins coolly.

From what he’s heard, Raphael didn’t join the ‘I hate Satan’ club presided by Amenadiel and Gabriel but she never answered any of his prayers either. This made her request rather surprising – not to mention suspicious – and at first, he wanted to tell her to bugger off... But this meeting was an opportunity to discern her intentions... Hopefully, it’s not her version of setting a trap.

Whatever she wants, Lucifer has no reason to trust her. He stretches all his senses scanning the area for any signs of skulking angels. Theoretically, dear old Dad is done with them after He punished them... but what if Raphael wants to prove her worth by succeeding where Gabriel failed?

“I promised, I’ll come alone,” she says, arching an eyebrow. “There’s no one else with me.”

“So it appears,” concedes Michael but he remains tense, despite the appearances of nonchalance.

Lucifer nods in agreement because as far as he can tell, they’re the only celestials in LA. It doesn’t make him any more inclined to lower his guard though – he remembers all too well Camael sneaking upon him.

They stare at their sister in uneasy silence like startled predators which ran into each other accidentally and neither wants to back off first.

“When you used Sandalphon as a carrier-pigeon to deliver your message...” says Raphael finally. “You said that if we leave you alone, you’ll refrain from interfering with Heaven’s agenda and won’t conspire against our Father’s dominion. Is that correct?”

“That’s the gist of it, yes,” confirms Michael.

“I want to take you up on that offer,” she informs them resolutely. “I’d like us to have peace... unless Father orders me otherwise, obviously.”

“_Obviously_,” Lucifer’s smile turns even sharper. “And what brought this sudden desire for peace, sister dear?”

Raphael blinks languidly at him.

“I have no wish to start a pointless war, brother,” she answers dryly. “It would bring nothing but pain for all involved.” 

“Riiight,” drawls Lucifer. “Especially since your chances of winning would be pretty slim. Not without Dad interfering again on your behalf.”

“Perhaps. But whoever would win, there’s no honor in needless bloodshed, don’t you agree?” says Raphael, not taking the bait. “I don’t break my promises. I’ll keep my side of the bargain, as long as you’ll keep yours,” she looks at them expectantly. “What do you say?”

Brothers exchange glances. Raphael indeed takes her oaths seriously but – as she pointed out herself – one order from Dad would be enough to shatter any truce they might strike here. Still, even such meager reassurance is better than living in constant tension, expecting hostility from any angel that might stumble to LA.

“I give you my word that we won’t harm angels whom we’ll encounter on Earth. But the moment one of you or someone working for you tries anything with us or those under our protection, the deal is off,” declares Michael and Lucifer almost smirk at his careful wording. “It’s our only offer. Take it or leave it.”

Raphael purses her lips, displeased with everything he omitted and loopholes he left them. Despite that, she finally nods slowly.

“I accept those terms,” she announces. She gives Michael and Amenadiel an almost sympathetic glance. “You two are banished from Silver City... but it doesn’t mean your son has to be as well, Amenadiel. He could be raised among angels, basking in love of our Father.”

Amenadiel bristles and glowers darkly at the mention of his newborn fledgling.

“Over my dead body,” he growls.

“Earth is a dangerous place,” continues unperturbed Raphael. “I promise, he’d be safe and loved in Silver City. He’d be with his family, away from all earthly suffering and misery.” 

The twins exchange glum glances. Was Raphael’s offer of truce only a ploy to get them to lower their guard? If so what she wants with baby Charlie? Is she simply trying to be kind by offering the fledgling a place among angels? Or is she following some nefarious orders from Dad?

“My son’s place is with me, Linda and Maze,” snaps Amenadiel, taking a threatening step toward Raphael until their faces are inches apart. “Deal or no deal, I am not letting any of you anywhere near him. Better don’t forget it, sister.”

With that, he turns away and stalks off, swiftly disappearing in the crowd of humans. Raphael watches him calmly, unruffled by his outburst. Raging egos of other archangels never impressed her and she considered incessant skirmishes among them a waste of time, unbefitting of their dignity. Lucifer idly wonders how she’s going to keep her haughty distance from Silver City’s cutthroat politics, now that she’s become its acting ruler. He seriously doubts, she’s happy with that development.

Raphael’s always been smart enough to understand that having Dad’s attention isn’t necessarily a good thing...

“Before I forget... Gabriel isn’t part of our agreement,” Raphael informs the twins. “I’m not responsible for his actions. Not after Father saw fit to... _dismiss_ him. But considering his destitute situation, he’s in no position to cause any trouble. He’s out of Heaven’s hands, I can do nothing _more_ to change his circumstances.”

Lucifer keeps his face carefully blank but his mind is in turmoil. The truth is that after their impromptu visit to Heaven he all but forgot about Gabriel. They spent the following two weeks doing very little but fussing over each other and reeling from what dear old Dad did to them. And then Linda gave birth to a baby angel who’s, of course, become the center of everyone’s attention.

Lucifer casts a questioning glance at Michael. Judging by a slightly guilty look in his eyes, Gabriel wasn’t at the forefront of his mind either.

“Well, if that’s all, I’ll be going,” says Raphael. “It was a pleasure doing business with you, brothers.”

Not wasting time on pointless speeches, she walks away, leaving them to brood in silence.

Lucifer turns to Michael just in time to see him rolling his shoulders and wincing in the process. Feeling the Devil’s eyes on him, the archangel freezes and shots him a rather unconvincing smile, obviously having no intention of discussing his aching back.

“I’m going to be seriously pissed if our loving Dad decided to turn us into an extreme form of test for angels trying to uphold my former position,” he says before Lucifer has a chance to comment on his behavior.

The Devil huffs, annoyed with his evasiveness and because that thought crossed his mind too. And whatever Raphael’s agenda is, she probably came to similar conclusions. Why else would she be so civil toward them?

“Well, trust Dad to make it a job interview from Hell. If that’s the case, He’ll probably burn through all archangels in less than a decade,” he observes dourly. “If I didn’t know that Destiny of the Endless doesn’t have a sense of humor, I’d say he’s pranking me. You know... after I made that joke about opening a pet shelter for stray angels, it seems I might be getting few.”

Michael snorts.

“Well, you set Destiny’s precious Book on fire that one time. I imagine he holds a grudge.”

Lucifer scowls at this reminder but chooses not to mention that he wasn’t the only angelic princeling throwing a tantrum back then. They both were rather displeased with Destiny’s refusal to let them have a sneak peek into his Book to see what their Father had in store for them. It wasn’t their proudest moment... not that he’ll ever admit it to any of the Endless. [1]

“Right,” mutters Lucifer. “I probably should start writing a business plan then.”

* * *

Lucifer lands on a crowded street in New York. He swiftly hides his wings and simultaneously shifts from the astral plane to the terrestrial one, making himself tangible and visible to the eyes of humans. Not that he has to worry about being spotted – slowly falling darkness and the afternoon rush hours don’t exactly make mortals perceptive.

Some guy in a cheap suit immediately bumps into him.

“Watch how you’re walking, pal,” he grumbles, barely lifting his eyes from the screen of his phone. [2]

He scurries away, still too glued to his phone to pay any attention to anything around him.

The faintly amused Devil follows him with his eyes. Eh, humans... so engrossed in their minuscule lives – they could overlook everything, including an archangel landing right in front of them. In their perpetual hurry to get somewhere, anywhere but space they’re currently occupying, they’re doing everything but living in the elusive present moment. Why they’re so intent on squandering their very short time on Earth on things that make them miserable, Lucifer will never understand.

He shakes his head – he’s not here to marvel over bizarre habits of mortals.

He pulls a small light-brown feather from his pocket and frowns at it. Finding one archangel on the terrestrial plane isn’t as simple as it appears. Thankfully they kept the feathers Gabriel’s lost during the confrontation in the penthouse – using one of them to cast a locator spell was a child’s play. He follows the pull of the feather which leads him away from the busy street.

Lucifer feels rather ambivalent about his task. He knows painfully well what it’s like to be cast away, hurt and alone, away from home – he can help but sympathizes with Gabriel’s plight.

On the other hand, it’s _Gabriel_...

After the Fall all of his siblings – with an exception of Michael – shunned him. Most of them simply ignored him but others, like Amenadiel, took an outright belligerent stance against him. Gabriel went a step further than that – he turned Lucifer’s favorite species of mortals against him. Holidays on Earth were one of the very few comforts he still had after the exile to Hell, so humanity’s sudden hostility and distrust were a harsh blow. Slander cut deeper and more viciously than the most brutal beatings from Amenadiel and Lucifer’s been paying the price of it ever since. Even in this day and age the Devil’s name is cursed and associated with ultimate evil. 

To say that Gabriel is nowhere on the list of his favorite siblings is an understatement.

Lucifer’s mood gets progressively darker as he wonders through dirty alleyways, further and further away from the street where he landed. He spares a moment of despair for his poor Louboutins – only Dad knows what awful substances they’re getting smeared with. Trash is everywhere and if his nose is right, local pavement is no stranger to urine and others, even more, vile substances. He really should have tried harder to convince Amenadiel to go on this angel hunt instead. Too bad his elder brother refused on the grounds of some doctor check for his baby son and so Lucifer didn’t push.

He steers clear of an overflowing garbage container, wrinkling his nose in disgust at the foul smell. At first, he almost misses a curled up shape amidst the sea of trash bags littering the ground but the feather pulls him in the right direction.

Lucifer slowly crouches over a huddled figure and studies him carefully. He doesn’t sense any divinity on him, except for the faintest echoes but his locator spell wouldn’t lead him to the wrong place.

“Gabriel,” says Lucifer in greeting. [3]

The person on the ground flinches and looks at the Devil from behind a curtain of unwashed blond hair. His face is gaunt and dirty but the blue eyes are unmistakable. Yes, the locator spell wasn’t wrong...

“Mîkhā’ēl?” Gabriel asks haltingly and Lucifer frowns at his pronunciation.

“Close but not quite,” he answers in Enochian.

“Sammā’ēl?”

Lucifer’s frown grows deeper at that. Putting aside the noteworthy lack of ‘Go to Hell, Satan’, Gabriel’s eyes are glassy with pain and unfocused. He seems pretty out of it. Lucifer sniffs the air and under the stench of garbage and dirt, he smells illness... It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what’s the problem.

“Take off your shirt,” Lucifer commands softly, still in Enochian. The blonde archangel is in such bad shape that English would probably only confuse him.

Gabriel stares at him for a moment with no comprehension whatsoever in his eyes. Lucifer is about to repeat the order when his younger brother finally reanimates and with a visible effort pushes himself up to a sitting position. Keeping himself upright on his own seems beyond him and he leans heavily against a grimy wall for support.

His jacket is filthy and – just like the rest of his clothes – looks like something picked from a garbage bin. It’s also clearly meant for someone of much heavier build than the slender angel and Gabriel shrugs it off relatively easily.

The trouble starts with his shirt. Lucifer hisses at the sight of rusty brown stains on the fabric covering his shoulder blades; the smell of illness becomes stronger. What’s worse, dried blood glues the shirt to Gabriel’s burns and he seems unable to lift his arms. He struggles anyway for a moment before he gives up and slumps against the wall with a pained whimper.

“Can’t,” he protests weakly, looking like he were about to start crying. “Hurts.”

“I know. It’s alright,” assures Lucifer gently. “We’ll make it better. May I?”

Not waiting for an answer he slowly lifts Gabriel’s shirt until he meets resistance. He steels himself for what’s about to come and then he rips it off in one swift move. Gabriel screams in pain and scrambles to get away but Lucifer’s hand on his shoulder keeps him firmly in place. The Devil mutters some meaningless reassurances to calm him down, until he stills again, panting softly.

Lucifer purses his lips – Gabriel’s back looks even worse than he expected. It appears that not only his wings were burned off but the whole bone and muscle structure which attached them to his body has been destroyed too. It’s nothing short of a miracle that he still has any mobility at all in his arms or that his spine avoided damage.

(Lucifer can’t help but feels relieved that Michael was spared from a similar or worse fate. As horrid as the loss of his wings is, having two neat scars is better than this.)

The burns on Gabriel’s back are untreated; the wounds are infected and festering. No wonder he’s so dazed – mortals simply aren’t built to endure such debilitating pain for so long...

And yes, he’s mortal on top of everything else. It’s not God’s doing as the blonde wouldn’t survive the fall if that were the case. It doesn’t mean though, it’s not dear old Dad’s fault... Presumably, it’s His punishment that shattered Gabriel’s ego to the point where he felt unworthy of being an angel. He’s become a mortal the same way as Amenadiel did after the Malcolm debacle.

Lucifer’s spares a moment to glare hatefully at the darkening sky, furious even on the behalf of a brother he despises. He materializes his wings and for a blink of an eye, they bask the squalid ally in divine light, turning it into something otherworldly and almost beautiful. And then the light’s gone, right along with the wings and everything seems even viler than it was before.

Lucifer presses the freshly plucked feather to the ravaged ruin of Gabriel’s back, willing it to fix as much of the damage as possible. Its healing energy bursts out and soon suppurating burns are replaced with the scar tissue. Lucifer tilts his head, critically studying his handiwork. It’s about as pretty as his Devil form but it was to be expected from the wounds inflicted by Daddy dearest Himself. Gabriel’s back probably still hurts but now he should be able to function, instead of floating in an agonized stupor.

Indeed, the blonde archangel’s breathing deepens from earlier shallow gasps. Very slowly he sits straighter, his moves careful and hesitant as if he expected to be hit with a fresh wave of pain any second.

Lucifer grins and stands up, reflectively smoothing wrinkles on his suit.

“I don’t know about you but I’d rather not hang out in such a stinky place any longer than necessary,” he declares. “Let’s go.”

Gabriel doesn’t answer immediately. Without looking at Lucifer he slowly straightens his stained shirt and wraps himself in the jacket he discarded earlier. He makes no move to stand up.

“Then go,” he says quietly.

“Right,” sighs Lucifer. And so it begins... “Not happening. You’re coming with me.”

Gabriel lifts his head enough to shoot him a weak glare.

“I shouldn’t even be talking to you, Satan. You can go back straight to Hell without me,” he hisses. “Just leave me alone.”

Lucifer blinks, stung. He didn’t expect gratitude – he’s not _that_ naive – but he believed even Gabriel has enough sense to refrain from biting a hand that tried to help him.

Why does he even bother? He knows perfectly well what Gabriel would do if their roles were reversed.

“Oh, but you are all alone, archangel,” Lucifer snaps back. “Has any of your loving siblings answered your prayers? Or have they abandoned you to rot with the rest of garbage, hm? Where is your almighty God right now?”

Gabriel flinches and curls into himself, lowering his head despondently.

“My Father is just and loving God,” he says listlessly, staring with dead eyes straight ahead. “I’ve earned His displeasure with my failures and so this is my condign punishment. He’s gracefully allowing me a chance to prove my faith because He loves me.”

Lucifer stares at him frozen in stunned horror. It takes all of his willpower to not howl his outrage and accusations at God and Heavens. He knows how obtuse angels can be... But seeing Gabriel praise their dick of a Father with what’s almost his dying breath is simply too much for the Devil’s sensibilities...

“He did all of this to you... and you still call it _love_?” asks deeply disturbed Lucifer.

“Yes,” confirms Gabriel, hugging himself tightly. “Go away. You won’t tempt me, Devil.”

Lucifer blinks, somehow chocked by a lump in his throat. The thing is, he can’t leave his younger brother like this. He just can’t. He noticed before how pronounced his ribs are – he’s badly malnourished and healing him was only a temporarily solution.

Besides, starvation and cold are not the only enemies, oh no... Lucifer hasn’t been the King of Hell for nothing – he’s seen the worst humanity has to offer. He knows in excruciating details what can happen on the streets to someone friendless, defenseless and with no means whatsoever. And Gabriel... well, Gabriel has been brutally ripped away from his family and safe, sheltered life in Silver City. He knows close to nothing about this hostile environment he’s found himself in. He’s never before had to make any decisions regarding his own life.

He’s beyond vulnerable. He’s a sitting duck, ready to be used and abused by anyone with a will to do so. He won’t survive long like this and there are good chances his mind will shatter long before he finally dies...

And then... and then it’ll get only _worse_.

In one serpentine move, Lucifer grabs Gabriel by the front of his shirt and forcefully drags him up, until they’re eye to eye.

“Let go of me!” complains Gabriel, struggling feebly. He looks scared, still not understanding that Lucifer’s not an enemy here. 

The Devil’s grip only tightens.

“You little fool,” he snarls, losing his patience. “How long do you think it’ll take for you to succumb to your own body’s weakness? How long before you’ll die alone and abandoned by everyone?” he asks mercilessly, ignoring Gabriel’s attempts to getaway. “You think that if you surrender to your punishment, Dad will take you home, hold you to His bosom and tell you how much He loves you?” Lucifer laughs mockingly. “The same way He took _me_ back after I tried to appease Him by accepting the mantle of the Lord of Hell? Oh no... I wouldn’t count on any mercy from Him,” the Devil continues darkly. He wishes he didn’t have to be so cruel but he needs to shake Gabriel from his unfound bound of martyrdom. The blonde archangel truly doesn’t understand the seriousness of his predicament. “You’ll go to Hell, brother. Do you remember all that beasts and gods of darkness we fought and defeated in the ancient times before the stars were made? The demons are their much weaker spawn and they never forgot nor forgave. They want revenge on all of the angelic kind. How do you think you’ll fare when they’ll get their hands on you, hm? Weak and powerless, you’ll be a toy for any demon important enough to have their turn with you. They’ll torture and defile you in ways you can’t even comprehend. You’ll pray for the end that will _never_ come.”

Lucifer allows his infernal visage to flash for a moment to drive his point home – this makes Gabriel recoil and avert his eyes in horror. The worst part of it is, the picture Lucifer’s painting is not an exaggeration to scare his foolish brother – this is exactly how the demons operate. He escaped such fate only because Michael protected him when he was too injured to defend himself after the Fall. And later on... well, the Devil at his full power doesn’t need to fear anything short of God or Goddess, does he?

“Are you willing to risk an eternity as demons’ plaything only because Dad is ‘just and loving God’?” he asks coldly.

Gabriel is shaking and tears are rolling down his dirty cheeks. He ceased his struggles about half-way through Lucifer’s speech.

“No,” he chocks. “Please, I don’t want to go to Hell.”

Lucifer nods and takes a step back, releasing his brother. So the little idiot has enough sense in his empty head to not trust dear old Dad entirely. Good for him. Maybe there’s still hope for him then.

“I will _not_ let you die,” Lucifer promises, showing all teeth in a sharp smile. “But you need to come with me. Are you going to behave or do I have to drag you with me like a sack of potatoes? Either works for me.”

Gabriel hunches with resignation written all over his features.

“I’ll go with you, Lucifer,” he agrees, subdued.

Pleased with his capitulation, the Devil turns away and marches off in the direction he came from. Behind him, Gabriel stumbles over a trash bag in his hurry to follow him. He mutters something very un-angelic, causing Lucifer to snicker.

Soon, they reach the crowded main street, with Lucifer stalking straight ahead in large steps and Gabriel trotting after him. For the next phase of his plan, his younger brother needs to be a little more presentable so he starts searching for nearby hotels on his phone.

“They’re staring at us,” hisses the blonde archangel suddenly, looking around self-consciously.

Lucifer lifts his eyes from the screen of his phone and indeed, the people are giving them odd stares. He can’t blame them – the two of them make quite a peculiar pair.

“They probably think I’m your pimp or something of similar ilk,” he says flippantly, returning to his research.

“What’s a pimp?” asks Gabriel.

Lucifer stops to stare at him incredulously. Gabriel blinks at him with ingenuous eyes, genuinely confused.

“You’re hopeless,” groans the Devil.

But what else can be expected from an archangel who only ever watched humanity from the proverbial cloud and graced Earth with his presence only to announce some nonsense? When abandoned to fend for himself, he’s more lost than a drunken child in a foggy forest.

Ignoring Gabriel’s offended sputtering, Lucifer continues on his merry way.

It doesn’t take them long to get a room in the nearest hotel. The Devil immediately sends his younger brother to have a badly needed shower. He bribes a maid to go and buy some clothes for him. Judging by her stunned smile, he gave her more cash than she earns monthly. Well, at least one person is undeniably happy today...

He browses through takeaway menus searching for something light for Gabriel. Considering how badly malnourished he was, he probably wouldn’t be able to stomach anything heavy.

Thinking about it makes Lucifer scowl. It’s a miracle that Gabriel survived almost a month on streets and neither starvation nor his wounds killed him... But, of course, it probably was a _miracle_. After all, Raphael knew awfully lot about Gabriel’s situation and made a point of reminding them of him, didn’t she?

Making sure Gabriel didn’t perish but leaving him in such horrid state seems cruel at first glance but the Devil knows better than to judge her. What counts is that she saved their hapless brother from dying and subsequently going to Hell. She probably didn’t dare to help more, fearing Father’s wrath. It was quite ballsy of her to interfere at all...

The thing is, Raphael seems well aware that she might be the next one to get kicked out from Heaven... No wonder, she’s trying to play nice with her fallen brothers.

By that time Gabriel emerges from the shower, an hour has passed, the maid’s already returned with new clothes and the takeaway arrived. He inhales the food like a starved dog and Lucifer needs to tell him to slow down a few times.

The blonde archangel is morose and uncharacteristically quiet the whole time, apparently intensely brooding over something. He throws Lucifer fugitive glances now and then. After he had some time to think, he probably fears God will be even angrier with him for succumbing to the Devil’s temptation... Lucifer has no regrets – while it might be the case, Hell was a much more pressing threat than the divine retribution.

It doesn’t change the fact that the silence between them is heavy and awkward.

“Here,” says Lucifer, pulling the brown feather from a pocket and dropping it on the table in front of Gabriel. They have a few more of those in the penthouse, in case they need to find him again. “I believe, it’s yours.”

The look Gabriel gives him is unreadable but he snatches the feather immediately. He strokes it gently with longing practically radiating from his entire being.

“Thank you,” he says quietly.

“You’re welcome,” sniffs Lucifer coolly.

He gives Gabriel a contemplative look. The blonde archangel seems beyond tired but no longer as fragile as if a gust of wind could break him. Food and shower brought back some colors to his face and new clothes fit him well enough. He’s as ready to face the next step of the Devil’s plan as he’s going to be.

“If you’re done here, we’re going,” informs him Lucifer.

“Where?” asks Gabriel but obediently stands up. He tightly holds his feather in a clenched fist.

“Oh, you’ll see,” says Lucifer, smirking. “Nowhere horrible, I assure you.”

He grabs Gabriel and before he has a chance to protest, with one beat of powerful wings he transports them both to LA. His younger brother almost trips over his own feet when they land in front of a closed door. Lucifer takes a deep breath and knocks.

It doesn’t take long before the door opens and the Devil finds himself eye to eye with the person on the other side.

“Hello, Chloe,” he greets her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] No, I won’t include the Endless and they’re not plotting anything to make Luci’s life more miserable. I just couldn’t resist dropping a random bit of a backstory inspired by the comics. Luci, indeed, set Destiny’s book on fire and Mike was throwing a tantrum, though the circumstances were different than described above. 
> 
> [2]And this is an obvious nod to Death’s intro in Supernatural 5x21. You never know into who you’re bumping on the street, be it Death or the Devil... This scene still gives me chills... 
> 
> [3]In the Hellblazer (which is in the same universe as DC Lucifer btw), Gabe got kicked out by God and ended up on the streets too. I think mine is less whumped all things considered... and on that note, I’m done with whumping anyone in this series. In any serious way at least.


	2. The Devil Within

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tough love – Lucifer’s edition. Chloe regrets every single decision that led her to this point in life. The Big Bad Devil has a phobia of children. Amenadiel is still an idiot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The credit for chapter title belongs to Digital Daggers.

At the sight of Chloe Decker, Lucifer grins like a Cheshire cat but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. They remain cold and dark like the void between his stars – he has nothing else for her.

He’s not sure what he expected to feel upon meeting her again... She betrayed him. She put him through Hell for no better reason than her self-righteous pride and a whim inspired by a bunch of age-old fairytales. She was a reason behind his entire life turning into a wretched purgatory of depression, twisted longing, and grief. He should be reeling from finding himself in her presence again...

But the Earth hasn’t stopped spinning, an abyss hasn’t opened underneath him. She inspires very little but anger and acrimony in him. 

“Lucifer!” breaths stunned Chloe, clearly not sure what to think about his unannounced visit.

They haven’t seen each other since the fight in the penthouse. Now they’re standing on her porch and the warm rays of the setting sun bring gold in her hair. Perhaps that should awake longing in him... Instead, he’s mulling over ways to dissuade Michael from regaling him with a lecture about unnecessary risks. His twin definitely won’t be happy that he went to see her without a chaperone... Gabriel, who’s practically hiding behind him, doesn’t count.

Chloe’s eyes fall on the blonde archangel. She immediately pulls a face like she was sucking a lemon.

“What is _he_ doing here?”

“I see you remember Gabriel,” chirps Lucifer with forced glee. Gabriel offers no resistance when he drags him closer but if his scowl is any indicator, he’s not happy about any of this. Lucifer decides it’s time to drop a bomb: “I’m here to ask you to let him stay at your place for a while.”

“What?!” yelps Chloe at a rather ungodly pitch. (Gabriel makes some startled noise of distress and protest.) “Please, tell me you’re joking,” she demands in her ‘unimpressed Detective’ tone.

Lucifer barely contains a sigh. And so the battle begins...

“I’m quite serious, I’m afraid,” he says, letting his smile fade. “I can assure you, he’s harmless at the moment. His stay here wouldn’t be a permanent arrangement... only until we figure out a better solution.”

In response, she crosses her arms over her chest, clearly not placated. She’s not the only one as Gabriel levels him with such a glare that if Lucifer had any decency at all, he would drop dead on the spot. Eh, the peace and quiet were bound to not last long...

“I’m not staying with some puny mortal who can’t get her loyalties straight even if the salvation of her soul literally depended on it,” Gabriel declares scathingly. Much to Lucifer's astonishment, underneath the anger, there’s something afraid and betrayed in his eyes. One would think he’d be happier to jump at any opportunity to get himself rid of this wily, nasty Satan. “And to think that for a moment I _almost_ believed you are capable of something beyond your typical trickery and conceit. But you’re the Deceiver and...”

He never gets the chance to elaborate on what else Lucifer is. One unamused look from the Devil effectively shuts him up, all defiance evaporating from him in a blink of an eye.

“Gabriel,” drawls Lucifer, his voice like dark silk. Through millennia he endured blame and shame for crimes he never committed and his younger brother is largely responsible for that. No more. He’s not going to suffer another of his diatribes. “My patience is vast but not infinite. Do not make a mistake of testing it any further.”

The rebuke causes Gabriel to shrink visibly as he protectively wraps his arms around himself. With a meekly lowered head and trembling lips, he looks like the misery personified.

It appears, dear old Dad sponsored a severe case of abandonment issues to another of his children. Admittedly, Lucifer should have seen that coming...

After being stranded completely alone in the unforgiving world of humans, the company of another celestial probably feels like a breath of life after drowning... Never-mind that said celestial is the Devil himself. At the moment, his identity probably doesn’t matter – not when he’s something familiar... the last distorted remainder of the home.

The Devil lets his mien to soften. He won’t tolerate any insolence but he’s not going to be gratuitously harsh either. Not when Gabriel seems ready to shatter at the slightest push. Lucifer finds himself rather disturbed with how well he understands his current mindset.

_He_ didn’t react any better when Chloe condemned him to Hell, did he?

The difference is no one cares enough about Gabriel to pick him up from pieces... no loyal friend, no loving brother... Only an absentee Father who hurt and forsook him in the first place.

“I promised, I won’t let you die and whatever you might think of me, brother, I am not a liar,” says Lucifer gentling his tone and switching to Enochian. “I’ll keep an eye on you. If you pray to me, I won’t ignore you and neither will Michael nor Amenadiel. Raphael hasn’t forsaken you either since, as I believe, she prevented you from dying.”

Despite those reassurances Gabriel still looks so dispirited, Lucifer almost reaches to touch him but he stops himself at the last moment. Such familiarity from him wouldn’t be welcomed. The Devil’s pretty sure Gabriel will soon start resenting him – the sworn enemy of God and Heaven – for offering aid when no-one else bothered. 

“Nothing bad will happen to you,” Lucifer pledges regardless.

His younger brother doesn’t answer. He keeps his eyes downcast, staring at the planks of the porch with quiet resignation. The Devil sighs, not sure what else to do with him.

Unfortunately, he has no more time to ponder over nuances of taking care of depressed angels.

“Lucifer,” utters Chloe, drawing his attention. Judging by her expression, she’s irked he spoke in a language she doesn’t understand. He couldn’t care less – his promise to his brother is none of her business. “Can we speak alone for a moment?”

“But of course,” he agrees amiably.

She makes a move as if to retreat to the house but Lucifer just marches off to the other side of the porch where he expectantly leans over the railing. Thanks to the spell he put on this building, Gabriel – mortal or not – is still unable to enter. The thought of leaving him on a doormat in the falling dusk, waiting like a penitent while they discuss his fate behind closed doors fills Lucifer’s chest with a hollow feeling.

Chloe huffs in annoyance but follows him. She crosses her arms, impatiently waiting for an explanation.

As they stare at each other in heavy silence, once again he’s stricken with the emotional void she evokes in him. No more desperate need to please her in any way she wants, no more misplaced guilt over her damnation or even paralyzing fear she’ll punish him again for his deficiencies... Her opinion is no longer paramount to his self-worth. His world doesn’t revolve around her anymore.

He’s free from the burden of the oppressive love he had for her, his mind is clear...

A part of him still mourns the wasted friendship but more prominent is the dark anger in his heart. The feeling is disturbing – it’s like a burning poison coursing through his veins – but he doesn’t know how to cleanse himself of it. 

Oddly, he doesn’t care about that as much as he probably should. He supposes, he has _God_ to thank for that. Some things that were so infinitely important before, lost all meaning after the torment dear old Dad put them through. 

Being forced to maim the person he unfalteringly loved through all ages of this creation was bound to leave its mark, after all...

Something in him snapped irrevocably than, his flame went out. But when he believed he lost everything, at the same time he also realized he still had something... _himself_. A part of him that belonged to no-one but him.

He isn’t the Lucifer who desperately strived for scrapes of Chloe’s attention anymore. It’s a nice change to finally be able to look her straight in the eye without feeling as if lightning was about to strike him.

“What in the fresh hell?” she hisses, scowling at Gabriel who stands hunched where they left him.

“I have no idea,” deadpans Lucifer. “I’ve found him on Earth.”

Chloe closes her eyes, looking like she was praying for patience. Not that it’d do her any good – Dad is infamous for his negligent customer service.

“The last time I checked, you two were enthusiastically trying to murder each other,” she clarifies through gritted teeth. “I don’t see you for what – a month? – and now you’re suddenly the best buddies with him?”

“I wouldn’t say that,” replies Lucifer with a shrug. “We don’t have much in common aside for our mutual disdain.”

Chloe purses her lips, visibly struggling to hold back a biting retort.

“Then explain it to me because I don’t understand why you want to leave him with me like a stray puppy?” she exclaims frustrated.

“Actually, you’re not that far off the mark here,” muses Lucifer, pushing his hands into his pockets. “Dad, in his infinite wisdom, decided to kick him out. He needs a place to stay.”

“Great,” snaps Chloe. “But why does it have to be _my_ place? Can’t you keep him with you?”

“That’d be ill-advised,” Lucifer smiles coolly, with no mirth in his eyes. “For one, I don’t feel like terrorizing him into submission every time I want him to do anything.”

There are good chances that after recovering from his shock, Gabriel will start fighting Lucifer at every step on the pure principle of defying the Adversary. Who knows what kind of nonsensical ideas he might get while trying to regain Dad’s favor? And there’s always Raphael – Lucifer doesn’t doubt she genuinely wanted to help their brother but there’s a possibility she’d try to use him against them if pressed.

In short, Gabriel not only would be the runt of a litter among them but he’d be treated with suspicion and mistrust. To make the situation even more volatile, Amenadiel, Maze and Linda have a newborn fledgling, and both Lucifer and Michael were recently hurt – their protective instincts are on overdrive. Inviting a potentially hostile archangel to either of their aeries would be asking for disaster. Having Gabriel stay elsewhere is for his own protection as well as theirs.

Eh, those pesky nesting instincts...

Of course, Lucifer could install him in any of his properties in LA but the truth is, he also doesn’t want him to be alone. Chloe is in the known so she’s a perfect candidate to help him assimilate...

Well, and besides Gabriel isn’t the only one Lucifer has plans for...

“Lucifer, have you forgotten that he sent that psycho, Sandalphon, after me?” Chloe asks sharply. “That bastard terrorized me for months! For months!” she yells, her blue eyes flashing. “He threatened Trixie for Heaven’s sake! And then he wanted to kill everyone in the precinct. And when I finally thought it’s over, he...” she points angrily at Gabriel. “He sent another one of his cronies to kidnap me and drag me into a middle of a pissing contest between you!”

Lucifer nods slowly.

“You have every right to be angry,” he acknowledges, shamelessly borrowing a line from Doctor Linda. “But the fact remains, it’s Sandalphon who’s responsible for the majority of this unpleasantness. Not Gabriel. He’s not... malicious,” his lips twitch in a sour grimace. For all his faults, Gabriel never had any malevolent intent... at least, not toward humans. “I sincerely doubt he knew what he unleashed when he appointed Sandalphon for this task. He would never _intentionally_ cause harm to a child or condone a massacre. Not without Dad’s say so at least.”

Chloe’s nostrils flare when she harshly takes in a breath.

“Even if you’re right, at best he failed to supervise his subordinate’s activities. At worst, he _allowed_ this to continue.”

“To be fair, he was freshly promoted, with no prior experience on any independent management position,” points out Lucifer. He scoffs derisively. “Knowing Dad, he didn’t get a tutorial either. The old bastard loves to make demands with no explanations.”

“His lack of competence doesn’t justify what he did,” protests Chloe stubbornly. “Whatever his intentions were, he turned my life into a nightmare and now you want me to coddle him? Why the hell should he get away with everything?”

Lucifer closes his eyes for a moment. Chloe’s anger is justified and it’s only right that Gabriel will have to face what his remissness put at risk. But she too needs to realize that impunity couldn’t be further from what befallen the blonde archangel.

“He’s already been punished,” Lucifer says tiredly. He sees no point in elaborating that God took offense with the lack of results, not Gabriel’s methods. “Dad fired him... literally,” he winces at the memory, his hidden wings twitching in sympathetic pain. “He’s banished from Heaven, he lost his wings and his divinity. He’s fallen. Some would say, it’s the worst you can do to an angel...” Lucifer shows his teeth in a grimace that doesn’t resemble smile at all, his anger raising its ugly head. “Well, _aside_ for throwing them directly to Hell, of course.”

Chloe, who was ready to keep arguing, deflates. She involuntarily rubs the spot on her sternum where Michael branded her soul as damned. She quickly drops her hand, feeling the Devil’s keen gaze following her every move. For a moment there’s something akin to guilt in her eyes.

Good.

“Gabriel is a foolish child who shouldn’t be allowed to play with adult toys,” continues Lucifer. “It was bound to end in tears... but as far as I know, he hasn’t broken any laws the angels are beholden to. He was only following orders. Nothing more. The entire Host does that unquestioningly because serving God is their only reason for living... and those who have any doubts are too afraid of His wrath to disobey,” the Devil regards Chloe with obsidian eyes. “They’re a truly pathetic bunch but _you_’re in no position to judge them. Not after you were just as eagerly as them to ‘do God’s work’. You didn’t care what you might destroy in the process either, did you?”

Chloe blinks quickly, recoiling as if struck. Her expressions shift swiftly between shock, outrage, regret, and a dozen other emotions. Lucifer watches her with grim satisfaction – she’s only another of Dad’s puppets but unlike most of them, she has free will. No-one forced her to declare herself judge, jury, and executioner over him. He isn’t guilty of the crimes she damned him for and the injustice of that galls and offends him.

He doesn’t have it in him to forgive her – not now, maybe not ever – but despite that he’s willing to give her a chance for an expiation.

Chloe licks her lips nervously.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” she protests. “I was afraid, you might be here to start the Apocalypse.”

Lucifer wordlessly arches an eyebrow, not gracing such absurdity with an answer. Earth is the only true home he ever had, he’d never do anything to endanger it.

“If I could turn back time, I would,” insists Chloe. “I really want to make it up to you somehow...” Lucifer’s second eyebrow joins the first one. Chloe closes her eyes and releases a weary huff. “So Gabriel?” she relents finally, clearly displeased.

“He needs some help settling since he’s clearly not from around those parts,” explains Lucifer, glad the hard part is over. “I’ll cover all expenses, obviously,” he adds since humans tend to be weird about that. “I don’t expect you to ‘coddle’ him, as you put it. I only want you to treat him _fairly_,” he levels her with a hard stare. “If you can’t do that, tell me now. I’ll figure out some other living arrangements for him.”

“Wait... what?” frowns startled Chloe. “I have a choice here?”

“Of course. Despite popular belief, I’m not the one to take away anyone’s freedom of choice,” Lucifer smiles humorlessly. “There won’t be any hard feelings if you refuse or resign later on... But I’ll _appreciate_ your help here if you agree.”

He sees a calculating gleam in her eyes and he knows she took the bait.

“Fine,” she agrees. “He can stay.”

“Splendid,” Lucifer grins. She turns to leave but his voice stops her in her tracks: “Chloe, I promised him, he’ll be alright. I’d truly hate to be foresworn. I’m depending here on you to not let that happened,” Lucifer stares at her silently until she starts to squirm. “Just remember, he’s mortal now, with all that inclines. Dear old Dad’s done some serious damage to his back when he incinerated his wings and I simply don’t have the skills to fix that.”

“Yeah, got that,” she nods quickly. “You can trust me.”

Lucifer blinks slowly, his lips pressed into a tight line. Suddenly, he’s not so sure if this is such a good idea.

“I don’t trust you,” he says bluntly. “But perhaps we can work on that, eh?”

Without waiting for her replay, Lucifer walks toward the wall of the house. He touches it with an outstretched hand, reaching out to the spell he put there. All the symbols start glowing with golden light in recognition of their maker. He wills its structure to change, adding one more name to the list of angels allowed to enter. The light burns brighter for a moment before once again it fades from the spectrum visible for mortals. Despite that, Lucifer can still clearly see the spell enveloping the entire building in a net of protection.

Satisfied with results, he turns toward Gabriel and offers a hesitant smile.

“You’re all set,” he informs him. He stifles a sigh when he receives nothing but listless silence in response. “Don’t hesitate to pray to me if anything happens, brother,” he tries again.

Gabriel gives him a sidelong glance, his face completely blank, but then he nods reluctantly.

Well, it’s probably as much as can be expected from him. Lucifer forces himself to grin at both of his companions.

“Wonderful,” he hums. “Have fun you two.” He frowns, suddenly worried. There’s one very serious problem with that. “Actually... Don’t have sex with him,” he instructs Chloe who starts to sputter in outrage. “At least not without giving him first the extended version of The Talk about birds, bees and angels. I’m not sure, he knows how that works.”

Lucifer’s all for his younger brother having some fun – perhaps that would remove the stick from his arse – but only if he knows, what he consents to. His infamous conversation with a certain young woman in Nazareth doesn’t exactly inspire any confidence here... It just wouldn’t do if someone took advantage of his ignorance.

“I know how animals reproduce,” blurts Gabriel, blushing fiercely. “Why would I need some talk about it?”

Lucifer stares at him in silent despair. Perhaps he failed in his duty as an older brother but giving sex education to the angels is where both he and Michael drew the line. Eh, hoping that their parents would do some actual parenting was rather naive of them.

“Let me amend this... _no sex_ at all,” he declares disturbed.

For once, he’s glad Chloe’s such a prude – at least, he doesn’t have to worry about her having some dastardly designs against his younger brother’s virtue. Lucifer shakes his head to get himself rid of this truly terrifying mental image.

“Right,” he mutters. “See you soon.”

Still rattled he takes off in a flash of wings.

* * *

The next day finds Lucifer in Linda’s home. She and Maze went out on some errand and so he’s alone with Amenadiel. He told him how he resolved the Gabriel situation and his eldest brother agreed that it’s probably for the best.

Despite that, Amenadiel looks troubled, there’s a fierce frown on his face. Alarmed Lucifer recognizes it as a harbinger of another of his longwinded disquisitions and mentally prepares himself for an incoming snoozefest. Thankfully, instead of starting his speech, his eldest brother just picks up Charlie from the crib.

“Isn’t he wonderful?” gushes Amenadiel, looking adoringly at his son. “I’m sure every parent says so but he’s a perfect little angel.”

Lucifer rolls his eyes at the terrible pun.

“Yes, well, he seems like a healthy human larva,” he allows generously.

He curiously peeks from the safe distance at the bundle in his brother’s arms. He doesn’t trust it at all. He knows what little demons are capable of. His caution is well warranted as Maze gleefully informed him she already gave the little monster some instructions on how to lure the prey and dismember opponents.

As if that thing wasn’t scary enough even without her help... He saw enough Hell-loops where those little parasites _ate_ their way out of their mothers’ wombs or sucked the life out of their unsuspecting parents with their umbilical cords... And let’s not mention all those spawns staring creepily with vacant eyes before launching into murderous rampages...

Lucifer shudders. No, he’s not taking any chances and he’s not getting any closer to it, thank you very much. And he thought Beatrice is scary... at least she counts as a sentient being and as such can be bribed...

“Can we put him somewhere secure until he reaches the age when he develops into something more reasonable?” asks Lucifer nervously.

He tilts his head to the left. Little humans look so strange with their round heads that are too big for the rest of their bodies and their inordinate paws... It’s a good thing they can’t bite so early on since they don’t have teeth yet... Lucifer tilts his head to the right but no... this thing doesn’t make any sense from this angle either.

Much to his disappointment, all he receives in response to his very reasonable suggestion is a blissful smile. It seems parenting combined with nesting turned his eldest brother’s brain into a mush...

“Oh, Luci...” he sighs, shaking his head in amusement. “You can’t possibly understand what a joy it is to...”

Lucifer tunes him out, barely containing sigh. It seems he’s not spared from the dreaded speech after all.

Admittedly, Amenadiel appears to be settling well into the family life... well, after some initial setbacks. For one, after Linda got pregnant, the great lump didn’t tell her he wants to move in with her but instead he started bringing gifts... and serenading her... and wearing clothes in the colors she liked. The Doctor was understandably confused with his efforts, which crowning point was his shy proposal of brushing her hair since she doesn’t have wings.

At this point, Linda got seriously worried for his sanity since he failed to provide her with an explanation for his behavior. Frustrated, she asked Lucifer who – after he finished laughing – informed her that it’s angels’ customary way of declaring the wish to nest together.

One of the last stages of the nesting ritual was allowing the new angel to make some changes in the aerie, to claim it as their home too. Judging by the growing collection of the clocks and cliché pictures of the sky around the house, Amenadiel is well nested by now.

Suddenly, there’s a sound of hard rock music blazing from the kitchen and Amenadiel stops in the middle of a sentence.

“Maze is calling. It’s her ringtone, she set it herself,” he informs Lucifer proudly. “I better go get that.”

Suddenly, there’s a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. With no warning he puts his infant son in Lucifer’s arms, brazenly ignoring his brother’s sputtered protests. Charlie immediately emits ominous-sounding squeal and the Devil almost jumps out of his skin. He looks at Amenadiel’s retreating back with reproof... not that it helps him in any way. His brother shamelessly abandons him to fend for himself on the battlefield.

Eyes wide with horror, Lucifer holds squirming and gurgling baby like a ticking bomb, not sure what the hell he’s supposed to do with it. And it keeps making these unintelligible noises... The Devil speaks all languages of men, angels, demons, jinn, fairies, centaurs and whatever else lives in this bloody universe, and yet he has no idea what this thing wants! Surely it has some nefarious intentions... it has everyone else fooled but Lucifer knows better.

Charlie scrunches his face at him. In response Lucifer makes a particularly unattractive grimace with crossed eyes, letting him know he finally met a worthy opponent, resistant to his wiles. To his endless dismay, the spawn starts to giggle madly, in the process spiting drool everywhere...

It is a nightmare. In his rush to stop Charlie from leaking fluids, Lucifer daringly puts a finger on his mouth. It turns out to be a spectacularly bad idea... The little monster immediately clamps its toothless maw on the digit and starts to suck it.

The Devil squeaks in pure terror, mingled with disgust at the wet feeling.

“Oh, no! No!” he protests. “Bad spawn! Let go right this second!”

The thing just stares at him unblinkingly with an eerie calm.

Lucifer’s frozen in fearful indecision, contemplating how to dislodge his poor finger from the greedy jaws of the hell-spawn. It’s a good thing no-one is here to witness his inglorious defeat because his dignity would never recover from this blow. 

He resigned himself to being devoured whole (after rejecting the idea of praying to his almighty Father for salvation) when Amenadiel finally returns. Instead of being sufficiently horrified by his brother’s predicament, he makes some noise of pure adoration and wonder.

“Oh, I see you’re bonding with uncle Luci,” he coos with a soppy smile. “My little angel.”

Unbelievable... the Devil glares daggers at him, not that he notices.

“Amenadiel, do something!” he demands, his voice octave higher than normal. “Don’t you see what it’s doing?”

“You’re right, I should take a photo,” he agrees amiably and reaches to his pocket.

“No!” screeches Lucifer. Now he regrets not asking Father to smite him on spot. This way he’d at least be spared from further mortification. “Take it! Just take it away!”

Thankfully, Amenadiel refrains from preserving for posterity the evidence of the Devil’s defeat. He miraculously proves himself helpful by detaching the Drooling Maw of Doom from Lucifer’s finger. He cradles Charlie in his arms as if the little monster wasn’t just waiting for an opportunity to attack again.

“Are you sure your spawn wasn’t swapped with a little demon?” asks deeply traumatized Lucifer.

Amused Amenadiel chuckles at what he perceives to be a joke. Lucifer huffs irritably and promptly evacuates himself from the proximity of the little monster. Sadly, his finger is still slimy with drool so he quickly wipes it on the curtain.

In the process he pulls at the fabric, accidentally revealing something hidden behind it and the back of the couch.

“Brother... what’s this?” asks Lucifer, frowning.

Amenadiel looks at him, still smiling and then his eyes bulge in sudden horror.

“Nothing!” he cries.

He makes a move as if to drag Lucifer away from his discovery but he’s still holding the baby. By the time he managed to put it in the crib, the Devil already got a good eyeful of the offending item.

“Are you molting?” he inquires, nudging a trash bag full of dark-gray feathers.

“It’s not a big deal,” Amenadiel informs him harshly, shouldering past him and pushing the bag deeper behind the couch.

Lucifer narrows his eyes suspiciously – now he’s convinced it _is_ a big deal. If this indeed was something innocuous like molting, Amenadiel would simply say so. He talked his way out of helping to find Gabriel by the skin of his teeth and neither Maze nor Linda mentioned any doctor checks for Charlie. And a few days ago Linda wondered why he’s not letting them preen his wings anymore. At the time Lucifer didn’t think anything about it but now evidence is accumulating...

“Please, tell me it’s not happening again?” he demands sharply. “Tell me you’re not _falling_?”

“I only dropped some feathers,” insists Amenadiel, his smile strained and insincere. “It’s been a stressful time for us all. It’s nothing.”

Lucifer’s not buying it. There’s enough plumage in the bag to make a decent pillow.

“If it’s nothing, then show me your wings,” he proposes silkily. “Then I’ll back off.”

Amenadiel sighs explosively and sits heavily on the couch. He wearily rubs his temples as if fighting a headache.

“Alright,” he admits, defeated. “It’s bad.”

Lucifer glares at him, simultaneously focusing on his other senses. In the spiritual spectrum, Amenadiel doesn’t feel fallen... but he’s undeniably diminished. It must have been going for some time now.

“So you look like a plucked chicken again...” he says lowly, unmoved by Amenadiel’s abashed countenance. “Why the hell you haven’t told us?”

“I didn’t want to worry you,” he insists. “You have enough on your plate as it is.”

“Right,” drawls unimpressed Lucifer. “Because you’re the Firstborn, you know what’s best right after Dad and you can deal with everything on your own,” he taunts with a leer. “Tell me... is this happening because Dad cast you out with the rest of the filth like _myself_?”

“What? Of course, no!” Amenadiel denies vehemently, his eyes becoming comically huge but neither of them is laughing. “I mean...” he adds when Lucifer makes a skeptical face. “I’ll miss Silver City and our siblings but that’s not it.”

“Then what?” exclaims impatiently the Devil, throwing his arms up in frustration. “What’s going on with you?”

“I’m your elder brother!” explodes Amenadiel. “And I failed to protect all of you from Father!”

In the silence that falls after his outburst, a pin dropping could have been heard.

“And how precisely you wanted to accomplish that?” asks Lucifer snidely, not happy to be reminded of that day. “By asking Dad nicely to stop being a dick? Good luck with that.”

Amenadiel slowly shakes his head. He looks haunted.

“I just stood there like a fool,” he continues as if Lucifer didn’t say anything. “I didn’t even try to help Gabriel and look at what happened to him. Later when Father tormented both Michael and you, I couldn’t be more useless and powerless if I tried,” he shakes his head miserably. “I’m the eldest. It is my _duty_ to protect you and instead, I’m the only one who came out of it unscathed.”

Lucifer glowers in response. So his eldest brother found a way to make their nightmarish ordeal all about himself. Go figure.

Amenadiel remains oblivious to the Devil’s growing ire. He stands up and walks slowly to his son’s crib. For a moment, he gazes at him tenderly before his face falls again.

“I would sooner die than let anything happen to him. Causing any harm to him myself is unthinkable,” he states, shaking his head in disbelief. “Our Father claims to love us all... so how could he treat you the way he did? How could any parent do _that_ to their own children?”

Lucifer barely stifles a derisive snort. He almost suggests a tour through a very special section of Hell. It contains all kinds of settings from emperors’ palaces to the most squalid slums and everything in between. The damned souls suffering there atone for mistreatment and abuse of those they were supposed to nourish and love. The Devil prefers to not dwell on how numerous they are.

“It wasn’t right, what He did. It wasn’t just,” Amenadiel continues passionately. “Neither of you deserved that... even though He made us all believe that His verdicts are never wrong,” he looks at Lucifer with confused eyes. “You know, I tried to talk to Michael about that, to let him know he’s not to blame for what happened... And can you imagine what he did in response? He laughed in my face and said that if Dad did something nice for him for a change, he’d probably drop dead from the shock. And that he long since stopped caring,” Amenadiel stares straight ahead, clearly poleaxed and then he repeats incredulously: “He _laughed_ in my face.”

“Yes, I can imagine,” says Lucifer tartly. He’s severely tempted to smack his brother across his fool’s head. “You’re truly the most oblivious of them all if you don’t understand why Mike found your attempt at being sympathetic to be amusing in a grotesque way.”

Amenadiel blinks quickly in apparent shock.

“What else have I missed?” he asks in a tone suggesting he’d rather keep his blissful ignorance.

“Oh, Amenadiel...” sneers Lucifer. “That could fill an entire New, New Testament with several Apocrypha on top.”

The Firstborn was always jealous of gifts and privileges Dad bestowed upon the twins. He failed to consider that they came with a price of much greater expectations and God never hesitated to harshly punish failures. They spent an eternity on attempts to shelter the rest of the angels from their Father’s temper but in the process, they usually took the brunt of it. And while it could be said that Lucifer was the favorite, Michael... well, he was on the opposite side of the spectrum.

Meanwhile, the eldest carelessly took their Father’s side in any conflict. His current efforts were too little and eons too late to matter. It’s no surprise that Michael lashed out when Amenadiel tried to treat him like some poor wingless dove... instead, he got an ill-tempered if injured bird of prey.

Whatever Amenadiel managed to read in Lucifer’s eyes, it makes his face fall.

“How could I have been so blind?” he asks remorsefully. “You all are my little siblings and I wasn’t there when it mattered. What good am I to my son after I failed you?” he continues his maudlin, much to the Devil’s exasperation. “I always believed that Father has some ineffable plan which makes all that pain and hardships worthwhile... but there’s _no_ justification for His cruelty. Are we not His children? Or are we just tools that He can break and dispose at whim?”

At this point, Lucifer has had enough.

“Well, you’re preaching to the quire,” he growls. “Don’t forget to whom you’re speaking to. I tried to make you all see that a long time ago. I argued, I begged, I was spitting warnings like bloody Cassandra until I was blue on the face. None of you listened,” Lucifer eyes burn with Hellfire when he pins Amenadiel with a hard look. “You all turned against me, cursed me and called me evil. And you, brother... you couldn’t get there fast enough to kick me while I was down,” His lips curl in contempt. “Don’t you dare to talk to _me_ as if you were the first one to realize that dear old Dad is a heartless bastard.”

Lucifer dramatically spreads his wings and flies off, too incensed to wait for Amenadiel’s replay.

As he soars through the astral plane, he looks for Michael. With angels falling like rain lately, he feels an irrepressible need to check on his twin. Never-mind, he was perfectly fine when Lucifer saw him this morning.

Eh, stupid, irrational nesting instincts...


	3. Angel of Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Michael are not impressed. Chloe has a bad day... and she’s tired of people judging her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The credit for the chapter title belongs to Rhapsody of Fire.

Lucifer has no trouble pinpointing Michael’s location in the middle of nowhere, outside of LA. Their kindred powers constantly call on to each other and besides, it’d be hard to miss the archangel who radiates celestial energy like a supernova.

It’s enough to temporarily reassure Lucifer, so he decides against flying to him instantly. He needs some time to cool off. Amenadiel always had a knack for getting under his skin... especially when he wasn’t even trying.

With a few powerful beats of his wings, Lucifer sends himself flying toward the downtown. Distorted, translucent shapes of the astral plane surrender him as he glides through skies. He’s invisible to the eyes of mortals but their souls look like swarming fireflies from this height.

Lucifer allows himself to enjoy the feeling of non-wind in his feathers. He makes a few mad somersaults around ghostly skyscrapers. Perhaps flying in circles like a drunken sparrow is beneath the Devil’s dignity but he doesn’t care. The exhilarating feeling of freedom that can be brought only by unrestrained flight washes over him...

He almost forgot how much he loves flying. He didn’t have many opportunities to simply enjoy the sensation in so many millennia. There was always something spoiling his fun...

It started when his wings burned to ash during the Fall. Dear old Dad restored them when Lucifer accepted the mantle of the Lord of Hell. They were the last ‘gift’ Father gave him, the tangible symbol of his enslavement to His will. It was then that Lucifer realized that for all of his defiance and rebellion, he was still on a leash... just a little longer one than in Heaven. Every time he flew, he was reminded of that. He took a wild delight in cutting those wings off when he abdicated.

In this context, it wasn’t so farfetched of him to assume that the reappearance of the wings was another of Dad’s mind-games. He was partially right as it was God’s little miracle that caused this. Lucifer strived to be his best version for her. He wanted to show her a proof of divine and subsequently surrender himself to her judgment... No wonder his wings turned into the bat-like monstrosities when Chloe deemed him a monster.

But the wings he currently has... He doesn’t owe them to God’s condescension nor they’re the manifestation of his readiness to become someone’s pet. He subconsciously restored them to their full glory when he started believing that maybe he deserves better than what Dad and Chloe put him through. Michael gave him the push in the right direction but it’s Lucifer’s hope that made that happened.

He reclaimed those wings, they’re truly _his_... there’s nothing that could sour his joy of using them.

Lucifer notices a small gargoyle staring at him in confusion from the top of the nearest skyscraper. He scowls at it, annoyed with being gawked at by a barely sentient creature. He takes a sharp turn on a tip of his wing and his surroundings blur as he speeds up, leaving LA behind.

It takes only a few flaps of his wings to cross the wide expanses of the desert. Soon he lands gracefully on some remote beach, at the same time shifting back to the terrestrial plane. He blinks rapidly, momentarily blinded by the sun – it’s rays are a sharp contrast against the ambient non-light of the astral plane.

He finds Michael sitting cross-legged on the sand, facing the ocean. At the sound of folding wings he looks over his shoulder and smiles in greeting but then his focus returns to his project. Lucifer tilts his head curiously, studying his brother’s work.

“Queen Titania’s palace?” he inquires.

He’s pretty impressed with the accuracy of the replica – as far as he can tell, there’s not even one turret missing and embellishments adorning the palace are easily recognizable. What makes it so marvelous is the fact, it’s made from the ocean water and stands ten meters tall above its surface. And the only thing keeping the water in such an intricate shape is Michael’s will.

“You have to asks?” complains Michael but then he smirks devilishly. “On a few occasions, we indulged in summer romances... Titania, Oberon and I. Though sometimes in the midsts of passion they called me Lucifer. Wonder why...”

“Right,” hums Lucifer, trying to look like an embodiment of innocence. He closes the distance between them and sits, leaning comfortably against his twin. “I had a thing with them too. But for some mysterious reason, they tended to call me Michael.”

The archangel shakes his head, chuckling.

“Can you believe, they suggested we should wear nametags?”

Lucifer rolls his eyes.

“It’s nothing,” he declares. “Once they tried to convince me to change my hair color to blonde so they could finally tell us apart.”

Michael looks at him and judging by the contemplative glint in his eyes, he’s trying to imagine Lucifer with golden tresses. His lips start twitching in a barely contained merriment before he burst out laughing. 

“Oh, you definitely should do that,” he decides. “You’d look adorable. Some might even say: positively angelic.”

Lucifer shots him a dirty look.

“Let me remind you, brother dearest, that pretty much everyone believes we _both_ are blondes,” he says haughtily. “The flowing golden locks would suit you better though... You look so dramatic in all those paintings where you slay dragons.”

Michael makes some unidentified noise suggesting he’s torn between amusement and embarrassment. It’s not a secret, he loathes the way humankind perceives him.

Meanwhile, Lucifer’s smile fades as he regards his brother thoughtfully – he seems well but... The Devil picks up a shard of glass lying near his thigh and then takes his twin’s hand. Michael gives him a quizzical look but offers no protest when he uses the glass to graze his palm. The skin remains unblemished and Lucifer closes his eyes almost dizzy with relief.

“What are you doing?” asks Michael.

“Checking if you’re not mortalized,” explains Lucifer matter-of-factly. He drops the glass with disgust.

“Why on earth would I do something so ridiculous to myself?” wants to know Michael even more perplexed than before.

Lucifer proceeds to fill him in on Amenadiel’s most recent existential crisis and what caused it. By the time he finished, Michael’s expression evolved from disbelief to something pensive and distant.

“Praise the Lord for His miracles never end!” he drawls in a tone suggesting the exact opposite. “I never thought, I’d see the day when Amenadiel of all angels will call Dad on his less than admirable qualities.”

They all were rattled after their forced trip to Heaven. It’s far from the first time when their eldest brother expressed his horror and shock over what occurred then. It appears though, they underestimated the impact it has had on him. Perhaps becoming a parent gave Amenadiel a new perspective... After all, he chose what he has on Earth with Maze, Linda and their fledging over his place at God’s side... Perhaps his sentiment is genuine...

But Lucifer got burned by him a few times too many to put any faith in his resolution to be a better big brother.

“Don’t get so excited. You should have seen him after Uriel... died,” he says, his lips twitching bitterly. Amenadiel’s anger didn’t last long then, even with Mom trying to lure him to her side. “He returned to being Dad’s loyal soldier in no time.”

“And he liked Uriel more than us,” observes Michael.

Lucifer scoffs derisively.

“Why wouldn’t he? Uriel wasn’t like _us_,” he points out. “He didn’t dare to punch back when Amenadiel was acting like a dick... which was for the majority of the time.”

It wasn’t a surprise (to anyone but Amenadiel) that Uriel had so much repressed anger, he gleefully took an opportunity to beat their eldest brother to a bloody pulp. Karma is a bitch, eh?

No matter what the circumstances were, the Firstborn never questioned Father. He was so busy being a dutiful son, he forgot he’s also a brother. God’s favor made him feel entitled to look down on other angels, instead of looking after them. Where was he all those times when his support would mean a world to them? Oh, right, he was there, ready to carry out any punishment he saw fit for the smallest missteps...

Now he claims to be outraged on their behalf but not so long ago he was Dad’s most faithful enforcer. He was so convinced he can do nothing wrong in the service of God, he went as far as plotting his brother’s assassination. He even dared to raise a damned soul from perdition to make that happen. As far as Lucifer knows, he did all of that on his own accord, without the orders from the above.

The Devil really wishes he could trust him... but he doesn’t. He forgave, yes, but he’s much less inclined to forget.

The twins exchange looks and simultaneously scowl, dismissing the idea of including Amenadiel in their schemes. They’re not willing to take the risk that he’ll run back to Dad and tattle on them when things will get hard.

“Why I’m surprised he didn’t tell us he’s losing his powers, is beyond me,” complains Lucifer. “The bastard’s always been secretive.”

And that’s a problem. Amenadiel has been banished from Heaven and there’s a plethora of troubles that can befall a moralized angel, some of them deadly. Lucifer would rather know that there’s a possibility he might have to run a rescue mission in Hell.

“For Amenadiel’s sake, I hope he’s not hiding it from Maze and Linda,” muses Michael. “If that’s the case, Maze will probably rip off his testicles and turn them into a hairy pouch for small change.”

Lucifer groans in horror and disgust – this is _not_ a mental image he needed...

He’s about to elbow his twin in punishment but he stops himself. They’re sitting so close he can feel how tense Michael is. He’s not showing any outward signs of discomfort but Lucifer knows him too well to not notice the rigid way he holds himself.

“Are you sure, you’re alright?” Lucifer asks softly.

Not waiting for an answer, he touches Michael’s chin, tilting his head to get a better look at his eyes. It’s what doctors on the TV do, so it must be somehow helpful in assessing the state of their patients, right? He needs to make sure his nest-mate is as well as he claims.

“No sudden dizzy spells, no bounds of blindness or deafness?” questions Lucifer, earning himself a dramatic eye roll from his twin. “Ha! What was that? Are you getting some mysterious tics now?”

“Luci, you’re such a worrywart,” huffs Michael but his gaze softens immediately. “My immortality is perfectly intact. I promise I’ll tell you if I start to have some malfunctions on that front.”

Lucifer nods, somehow reassured but there’s worry still gnawing away at his mind. As resilient as Michael is, he’s still an angel... and the angels self-update as Amenadiel and Gabriel can attest.

And God made a brutal example out of Michael in front of all their siblings...

“If I were to fall apart every time Daddy was mean to me, I’d spend most of the eternity crying on the bottom of some black hole,” states Michael sardonically, easily deciphering his twin’s concerned gaze. “I’m in a committed relationship with my self-respect. Dad is _not_ invited anywhere near that, thank you very much. I’m fine.”

Lucifer sighs but lets the matter rest. If he tries to push, Michael will only get defensive.

He looks glumly at the ocean, letting himself to be lost in the never-ending rhythm of raising and falling waves. The water glitters in the rays of the sun as if someone spilled a whole galaxy of stars in its depths. Lucifer misses long-past, simpler times when the two of them used to chase the horizon and each other, their careless laughter carrying above the waves...

It’s no longer an option for Michael though.

Not being able to fly isn’t even the most daunting consequence of what Dad did. While Michael hasn’t lost his powers, controlling them without the help of his wings is... problematic. That’s a recipe for a disaster since their demiurgic abilities come second only to those of their parents. They can’t create something from nothing nor breath a new life into an inanimate form but aside for that they don’t have many limitations. Reality is theirs to shape. Unfortunately, if mishandled, the power of such magnitude can easily cause a catastrophe... like for example, evaporating the entire Solar System.

Accidentally.

It’s the reason why Lucifer almost completely forwent using his powers after cutting off his wings. For him, the most basic of his abilities, like his desire mojo, were enough. He lived as he wanted, free from the celestial obligations and in the process he flipped Dad the biggest bird in history. What more the simple Devil could desire?

Michael though... he’s a being of the sheer unrestrained power. He relished in his abilities and using them came to him as easily as breathing. Not having full control over his power was a hard blow to him.

And besides, when you plot how to make your Almighty Father leave you the fuck alone (as you politely requested), it’s better to have two fully functional demiurges, not just one.

It didn’t take long for Michael to start working tirelessly to relearn how to control his abilities. He’s been making discernible progress but...

“How long have you been at this?” asks Lucifer, nodding toward the replica of the palace created of nothing but water and Michael’s will.

It’s undeniably beautiful. The sun shimmers in its crystalline towers and small rainbows hover around it, giving the castle a truly magical look. Despite that, its aesthetical value is meaningless in this endeavor. Michael made it solely to exercise his control over the physical elements. While it’s obviously doable, it requires tremendous mental effort without the help of the wings.

For someone who wrestled the primordial darkness into submission and forced it away from the rest of the creation, it should be a child’s play. It isn’t anymore.

Michael shrugs stiffly, the movement making it clear that he’s indeed sore.

“A little while,” he replies.

Lucifer narrows his eyes because in translation to English it probably means several hours. He’d be considerably more worried if Michael just rolled over and gave up but he’s pushing himself too hard.

“You’ve already gotten better at this than I thought possible in such a short time,” Lucifer finally says. “How do you feel about taking a little break?”

In response, he gets another noncommittal shrug. This one is accompanied by a small wince Michael failed to suppress in time. At this point Lucifer has had enough... he hates seeing his twin in pain.

“Your back hurts,” he states bluntly, not bothering to make it sound like a question. He’s not blind.

“Luci...” sighs Michael, his left eye twitches slightly.

“Let me see,” asks Lucifer before he can think better of it.

“I don’t think, it’s a good idea.”

The refusal is mild but it’s enough to make Lucifer recoil, shifting away from his brother.

“Of... of course,” he says only, his voice sounds odd even to his own ears.

What else has he expected? He should have known that Michael wouldn’t let him anywhere near his scars... not when Lucifer’s responsible for them. He only wanted to check what’s wrong but as always his meddling exacerbated everything...

“There’s not much you can do,” insists Michael to which Lucifer just nods numbly. The archangel watches him keenly with a progressively more worried expression. “But I don’t mind if you take a gander... If _you_’re alright with that?” he asks uncertainly.

Lucifer blinks at him stunned. The possibility that Michael tried to spare him from something possibly triggering never crossed his mind.

“Well,” Lucifer clears his suddenly closed up throat. “You’re the one who’s been lately making faces like a cat with indigestion... I’m worried you might get stuck looking like that and wouldn’t that be a bother.”

Michael swats his arm in mock offense but some of the tension leaves him at this attempt at humor. He gives the Devil one more searching look before he takes off his shirt. Lucifer can immediately tell what’s the problem.

The wings are gone but the complex bone structure inside his body survived, right along with muscles and tendons. Lucifer knows from personal experience how easy it is to forget yourself and try to move the limbs that are no longer there. A strain like this is bound to cause muscles to clench up and cramp. And that’s just the beginning... the whole area around the scars is inflamed and looks painful.

“You should have told me sooner before it got this bad,” scolds Lucifer. “May I?”

Michael acquaints with a nod. Lucifer resolutely pushes away all thoughts about blood and a blade scraping over a bone and splays his hand over the space between scars. He’s not particularly gifted at healing but he doesn’t need to be to unkink some knotted muscles and soothe swelling. He lets his energy flow through aggravated areas like the warmth of the sun.

At one point, Michael makes some noise between sigh and purr when his muscles shift and his bones realign themselves into a more comfortable setting.

“May I touch the scars?” asks Lucifer softly.

This causes Michael to go rigid all over again but then he nods slowly. He shudders violently when Lucifer covers both of his scars with open palms. The Devil gives him some time to adjust before he starts working his magic directly where the wings used to be. It takes some time but finally, Michael relaxes again, letting the tension to melt away.

Looking at the scars – let alone touching them – is like a dagger to a heart for Lucifer. He’s the one who butchered his brother after all. Nothing can erase horror and agony of what he did but the least he can do is to alleviate some of the pain. It’s not enough – _nothing_ will ever be enough since it’s beyond them to restore the wings destroyed by God – but it’s all he can do.

“You need to let the muscles atrophy,” Lucifer advises.

“I know,” grumbles Michael. He releases a tired sigh. “I keep forgetting they’re not there. I try to unfurl them on reflex alone... but then it hits me all over again. And sometimes they hurt. My wings. They’re no longer there but I can still _feel_ them burning,” he rubs his eyes in an exasperated manner. Lucifer is frozen, he doesn’t even dare to breathe. “I know, I’m being irrational,” adds Michael in an offended tone. He sounds angry with himself. “This is ridiculous. I should know better.”

Lucifer reanimates only to gently tug one of his curls in punishment. Of course, Michael – the unmatched champion of internalizing and rationalizing everything – would begrudge himself a perfectly understandable emotional response.

“You’re allowed to _not_ be fine all the time, you know,” Lucifer reminds him mildly. “We’re no longer in Heaven, Mikha.”

Michael presses his lips into a grim line, his thousand-yard stare telling what exactly he thinks on the subject. Lucifer silently curses his Father for the umpteenth time for putting that look in his twin’s eyes.

“We’re still not outside of Dad’s reach,” points out Michael with deceptive calm. “And that means I simply can’t afford not being fine. Just as _always_. I won’t give the old bastard the satisfaction of finally getting into my head.”

Lucifer closes his eyes for a moment. They both have developed their ways of dealing with everything Dad threw at them over the ages. Somehow he doubts Doctor Linda would classify most of that as ‘healthy coping mechanisms’.

At a loss of what to do, he hugs Michael from behind, resting his chin on his brother’s shoulder.

“It’s a good thing then, that perhaps we won’t have to tolerate His games for much longer,” he says.

* * *

Chloe is having a bad day.

Well, she had worse but this one is high on the list of the most annoying ones. First, she spilled coffee on her new shirt, then the best lead on the case turned out to be a dead end. And it only went downhill from there. The detective who’s been her new partner for the past few weeks requested to be assigned to someone else. He declared her impossible to work with and left in a huff the moment his transfer was approved. On top of everything else, the lieutenant chewed Chloe out for allowing her caseload to pile up.

Too bad other issues, like trying to avoid eternal damnation, prevent her from focusing on the job she loves.

The cherry on top of today’s shit-cake was a meeting with a magician – some obnoxious blonde Brit who introduced himself as John. Lately, Chloe’s been spending the majority of her time and energy on searching for witches, shamans and anyone who could possibly shed some new light on her predicament. Most of the individuals she encountered were charlatans, others suggested her yoga classes or (in a few memorable cases) making an appointment with a therapist.

The magician she met today was different though – he was a real deal. He immediately recognized the mark on Chloe’s soul for what it is. And this is where her luck went out... John informed Chloe in no uncertain terms that it’s beyond any human’s power to undo what was done by the top-shelf archangel. In response to her frustrated question what she’s supposed to do, the magician only shrugged. He said that if she can’t trick the archangel into pardoning her, she might as well move to Hawaii to enjoy the rest of her life since that’s all she has. He refused to aid her, claiming that ‘the eternal bliss of some dour-faced stranger’ isn’t worth a risk of pissing off the archangel who could condemn or absolve him on a whim. She tried to insist that it’s the right thing to do because he’d want some help too if he were in her position. In response, John looked at her as if she sprouted a second head and walked away laughing like a loon.

Well, appealing to the better side of human nature was clearly a mistake with this guy.

All of this put Chloe in an understandably foul mood. She’s not going to give up her research yet... but her lack of success is discouraging.

She curses when she accidentally drops her keys right in front of the door of her mother’s house. She wants this day to be over but it’s not even 7 pm.

She enters, only to find an unusual scene of Trixie, the babysitter, and Gabriel sitting around the coffee table and playing poker. By the looks of it, the angel is losing. Badly. Chloe blinks quickly to make sure, she’s not hallucinating.

“Oh, hi, Ms. Decker!” greets her the babysitter, some UCLA student named Kate. Trixie waves cheerfully. “I report that the homework is done and everyone is fed.”

Chloe purses her lips, observing Trixie collecting her haul which consists of MMs. Kate gathers her stuff and makes her way toward her employer.

“You were teaching her how to play poker with stakes?” Chloe says in disbelief, handing the girl her payment.

“It’s no fun without stakes,” Kate informs her unrepentantly. “Plus, she already knew how that goes.”

Chloe supposes she has Maze to thank for that.

“And what about him? You just let him hang out with you?” she hisses, nodding toward Gabriel.

After losing a stupid poker game the angel looks so miserable, that Trixie pushes about a third of her chocolate winnings toward him. It actually seems to cheer him up a little bit.

“Why not?” asks Kate. “Should I know something?”

Chloe scowls because it’s not like she can tell the impertinent girl that he’s an archangel and for that reason can’t be trusted. Kate raises both eyebrows completely unimpressed. By the looks of it, she’s judging Chloe for something absurd, like being possessive.

“Oookay,” she drawls. “I’ll be going then. Bye, you all!”

With that, she’s gone and Chloe is left to glare at the closed door. She decides, she’s not going to hire that girl again. With a sigh, she walks toward Trixie.

“Hi, monkey,” she says, suspiciously eying Gabriel who’s decimating his MMs. “You’re okay?”

“Yup!” Trixie grins. “I won.”

“What’s a pimp?” asks Gabriel out of the blue.

Chloe’s thoughts come to a screeching halt and she just gapes at the angel with her mouth open.

“Yeah, what’s a pimp, mommy?” pips in Trixie, her eyes alight with innocent curiosity. “Kate only laughed and said we should ask _you_.”

Chloe squeezes her eyes shut, hoping that when she opens them she’ll wake up and it’ll all turn out to be a bizarre dream. She’s definitely not going to hire Kate ever again.

“Well...” she starts, thinking fast. If she won’t come up with a satisfactory answer, her inquisitive kid will look it up on the internet. She doesn’t want to know what Uncle Google has to say on the subject. “Pimp is a bad man who makes others work for him and do unpleasant things. And he takes some of the money they earn.”

Trixie nods, apparently happy with the answer.

“But it doesn’t make any sense,” protests Gabriel, frowning. “Lucifer said that people probably thought he’s my pimp but he wasn’t doing anything of that sort... Not _then_ at least,” he adds with a small scowl.

Chloe pinches the bridge of her nose, already feeling the beginnings of a headache.

Yesterday she took Gabriel shopping, to get him some essentials. The whole time he was so busy sulking, he barely said two words but, of course, he just had to start babbling in front of Trixie. She briefly considers merits of shooting the angel but then she decides against it – as satisfying as it would be, it’s probably not worth Lucifer’s retribution.

“Lucifer’s not a pimp,” declares Trixie decisively, sounding offended on his behalf.

“Of course he isn’t,” agrees Chloe with a forced smile. As promiscuous as Lucifer is, she just can’t picture him profiting from making others sell themselves. “I’m sure, he was only joking. His sense of humor gets warped like that sometimes.”

Thankfully, it seems enough to appease Trixie. Chloe prays for her to never ask Lucifer about that – she dreads his answers even more than what her daughter would find on the internet.

“Trixie, how about you go play in your room for a while?” Chloe suggests. “Mommy has some boring adult stuff she needs to discuss with Gabriel.”

Trixie agrees with a shrug. She runs off but not before throwing the angel a sympathetic glance. This doesn’t improve Chloe’s mood in the slightest. She turns to glower at Gabriel the moment the door closed behind her daughter. 

“Do you think it was funny?” she growls.

“What do you mean?” Gabriel gives her such a bewildered look, she almost buys it. Almost.

“Asking the pimp question in front of my ten-year-old kid,” she snaps. “She’s too young to have details of prostitution explained to her.”

Gabriel’s eyes widen in shock.

“I... apologize,” he says, sounding disturbed. “I didn’t know what that word means.”

“Seriously?” Chloe crosses her arms on her chest. “You’re God knows how many thousands of years old and you didn’t know? Do you have any idea how ridiculous that sounds?”

His face takes on a blank look, she already learned to despise even after such short acquaintance. She can’t decide if he annoys her more when he gets detached and spaced out or when he’s sulking.

“I’ve been occupied with other things than keeping tabs on the customs of humankind,” he answers snottily.

“Sure,” she drawls, not pretending to believe in his crap. “New rule: you won’t ask any more of that sort of questions in front of Trixie. Actually... don’t talk to her _at all_ unless I’m present. Understood?”

“Oh,” Gabriel has the cheek to appear disappointed. He deflates even more. “Alright.”

She squints at him suspiciously, not trusting his easy compliance.

“You won’t touch any of our stuff without permission,” she says authoritatively.

“I won’t.”

“And don’t even think about snooping around our rooms,” she continues.

“Of course. I would never do that,” he promises, sounding almost insulted by the suggestion.

At this point, Chloe has had enough.

“Oh really...” she growls, taking a threatening step toward him. “And yet you had no issue with sending your minion to harass us in our home.”

This makes Gabriel flinch and avert his eyes.

“At the time, I wasn’t aware of what he was doing,” he confesses stiffly. “I told Sandalphon he needs to get you to collaborate...” His lips form a tight unhappy line. “I suppose, he interpreted that _somehow_ loosely.”

Chloe scoffs in an exasperation.

“You expect me to believe, you didn’t know what he’s capable of? Do you think I’m an idiot?”

It’s a small miracle, that Gabriel’s glare doesn’t set on fire the carpet in front of him.

“I didn’t know,” he insists sullenly. “I needed an angel who has true hatred for Michael. I didn’t want to risk sending someone he could beguile into joining them.”

Chloe’s almost impressed with his ability to make up excuses... as if his transgressions could be so easily dismissed. Ha actually has the gall to act like his actions were justified, instead of showing some remorse. Or gratitude for that matter.

“Right, because angels who aren’t homicidal maniacs would just run to Michael, their tails waggling. What’s next? Would they want belly rubs from him too?” she mocks. Putting everything else aside, she doubts someone as supercilious as Michael could command enough devotion to warrant Gabriel’s caution. “You had as all believe that you want to send Lucifer back to Hell... but as far as I understand it, you needed to deliver him to Heaven so your Dad could have a nice chat with him,” Chloe scoffs, shaking her head. “Are you even capable of saying anything that’s not a lie? What do you even have to say for yourself?”

Gabriel grows progressively paler through her tirade.

“I’d have to be an imbecile to announce my actual plans to all and sundry. Especially when I was dealing with adversaries considerably more powerful than myself,” he says flatly. He finally abandons his contemplation of the floor to glower at Chloe with a surprisingly steely gleam in his blue eyes. “And besides, I’d never trust _you_.”

Chloe bristles, startled by this unanticipated change in demeanor.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You didn’t find Lucifer’s company disagreeable or considered him a threat for years but then you betrayed him anyway,” Gabriel points out coldly. “And instead of trusting that Heaven will take care of you since you rendered us a service, you turned against us. You have no loyalty nor faith in either side, you just act in your own self-interest. You’re not merely a traitor but a _double_ traitor.”

Chloe’s jaw drops to the floor at his audacity. How this ignorant bastard dares to judge her like this when he knows nothing of what she’s gone through!

She takes a belligerent step toward still sitting Gabriel, towering over him. He flinches violently at her sudden proximity and promptly lowers his eyes, avoiding her furious glare.

“If my company is so distasteful, you’re free to leave at any time,” she informs the angel through gritted teeth. “Go ahead. What are you waiting for? Go,” She sharply points at the door. Gabriel doesn’t answer but remnants of color drain from his face. “Let me remind you that your big bro couldn’t get rid of you fast enough... and I’m _not _obliged to let you stay. You can go back to...” she makes a vague gesture with her hand. “...well, wherever you came from. No?” she takes his continues silence as a capitulation. “Great. Then I highly suggest you work on your attitude.”

She takes a few steps back, still fuming in outrage. Hopefully, this little reality check will teach him to think twice before he says something. As much as he gets on her nerves though, his presence might turn out to be a blessing in a disguise.

“So,” Chloe starts pleasantly. “How were you planning to remove Michael’s mark from me?”

It takes Gabriel a moment to respond and she barely stops herself from tapping her foot impatiently.

“Father can do that,” he says dully, not looking up from his slightly shaking hands.

“Seriously?” she snaps. So much for her hopes of finally getting some cogent answers. “So all of those promises of granting me an entrance to Heaven were nothing but empty words?”

“No,” he denies softly. “Father rewards those who serve Him well. I thought... that maybe if I prove myself, He’d grant me a similar power as Michael and Lucifer have. Then I could...”

“Fuck!” curses Chloe, feeling a leaden weight settle in her stomach. “So you can’t do shit and no-one but Michael and God can fix this?”

It’s exactly what Michael told her but she hoped, he was only bragging. But if another archangel confirms that... She’s going to Hell.

“_Theoretically_ Lucifer has the power but he won’t do it,” says Gabriel quietly. “Those two never contradict each other like that...”

“And you’re telling me this now?” she barks sharply, making him jump. It’s a crucial piece of information and the useless angel mentioned it like an insignificant afterthought. As if for some reason Lucifer’s ability to spare her from Hell didn’t matter. “You should’ve started with that. No wonder your Dad kicked you out if you’re always this unreliable.”

She stalks off toward her room leaving the angel to his brooding. Nonetheless, she feels somehow lighter. The perspective of convincing Lucifer to let her off the hook seems less daunting than doing the same with his aloof twin.


	4. Take This Light

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Amenadiel made his bed and now he needs to lie in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for a delayed, short and uninspired chapter but real life kicked my arse six ways to Sunday and I wasn’t in the mood to write.  
The credit for the chapter’s title goes to Orden Ogan.

It’s quite late in the evening when Amenadiel returns home after his pottery classes.

“Look what I got,” he announces triumphantly, showing a crate full of Maze’s favorite coconut water. His smile fades when he notices serious faces of his nest-mates. “Is something wrong?” he asks.

His gaze immediately falls to their son but Charlie sleeps peacefully in his crib.

“We need to talk, Amen,” says Linda.

She takes a sit on the couch but Maze hovers behind her with her arms crossed over her chest; her scowl is something to behold. Amenadiel frowns as he slowly puts the coconut water on the table. He suspects what it’s about... but he desperately hopes he’s wrong.

“What’s going on?” he asks carefully, taking a sit in front of the human-demon duo.

“You don’t know,” states Maze flatly.

“No?” Amenadiel hates that his denial sounded more like a question.

“Let me enlighten you then...” Maze puts her hands on Linda’s shoulders, leaning toward him menacingly. “You see, I had a nice sparring session with Mike today. It just wouldn’t do to go soft and this dimension doesn’t offer much in terms of worthy opponents for either of us but I digress... Imagine my surprise when he asked if I want any assistance in protecting our spawn. Of course, I got curious why he’s suddenly so worried,” she shows her pearly whites in a sweet smile that sends shivers down Amenadiel’s spine. “Can you guess what he told me?”

Amenadiel barely stops himself from swallowing loudly. He can feel sweat rolling down the back of his neck.

“Well, I can’t claim to know what’s going on in Michael’s head even on our good day,” he chuckles nervously. “And he’s been a little bit upset with me lately. But that’s our normal state so...”

Maze stares at him unblinkingly; any pretenses of humor disappear from her face.

“He told me, you’re losing feathers and you’re falling again,” she informs him icily.

“Damn it!” curses Amenadiel. Chagrined he buries his face in hands but soon his embarrassment turns into agitation. “I should have known that Lucifer would babble out everything the first chance he got. And it’s so typical of Michael to use any knowledge for his own purposes.”

Maze scoffs and Linda arches her eyebrow completely unimpressed.

“And you think _they _did something they shouldn’t?” she clarifies.

Amenadiel feels his cheeks darken in mortification. It’s so much easier to be angry with his brothers than face his partners’ disappointment.

“It was a private conversation,” he mumbles petulantly. “Lucifer should be more discreet.”

He almost jumps out of his skin when enraged Maze moves with a truly supernatural speed to find herself right in front of him.

“It’s not a problem that the Idiot Number One and the Idiot Number Two gossip,” she growls. “It’s pretty much given that when one of them knows something, the other will know too. And I’ll have you know that I appreciate Mike’s offer... What I, however, don’t appreciate is that the angel I chose as my mate, lies and deceives me and the mother of _our_ spawn!” her voice raises to furious screech.

Startled by noise Charlie starts fussing. Linda swiftly crosses the room and expertly calms him down, leaving the angel and the demon to stare at each other in heavy silence.

“There’s no need to yell,” Linda says finally.

“Thank you...” starts Amenadiel.

“But Maze has a point,” she interrupts him sternly, leveling him with a look. “We shouldn’t have to find out what’s going on with you from your brothers. Why didn’t you tell us?”

“Because it’s a personal matter,” insist Amenadiel earnestly. At first, he assumed the problem will go away on its own and so he brushed off Linda and Maze’s concerned questions. Later on though... he failed too many times at it is – he simply didn’t want his new family to think less of him too. “I’ve lost some feathers, yes, but I’ll deal with this soon. You have nothing to worry about.”

Judging by the looks on their faces it was a wrong thing to say.

“Nothing to worry about?” asks Maze in a deceptively soft voice. “What if the holy squad upstairs decided that they want to raise Charlie among them, despite their promises to leave us alone? What if some enterprising fraction of demons tried to kidnap him to Hell to groom him to be their new King? Hell... even some local talents on Earth might want him because he’s the only half-archangel in existence,” Amenadiel wilts under her thunderous glare. “All this time I believed I can rely on you to defend him... And now I find out, you might not be able to do that,” She bares her teeth in a sneer. “What good you are to me if I can’t _trust_ you?”

Amenadiel eyes widen in horror.

“Of course you can trust me! I’ll always have your back,” he promises. “Always.”

The demon snorts derisively. She opens her mouth, probably to start another angry tirade, but Linda gently touches her wrist.

“Amenadiel,” she says and his heart sinks even further because she sounds more sad than angry. “You have to understand that trust is built through actions... and it should go both ways. We all have things we rather keep to ourselves but your current situation can affect us all. Your reluctance to confide in us with anything relevant to your wellbeing makes me wonder if you believe in us?”

“Of course, I do,” he protests vehemently. Their little family is the best thing that ever happened to him. “I trust you with my life. With my _son_’s life.”

“No, you don’t,” contradicts harshly Maze. “Every time it matters, you keep secrets from us. You didn’t tell us about Remiel, we had to find out about her from the two idiots. And do you want me to remind you about your long and colorful history of lying?”

Once again Linda’s touch stops her.

“Maze,” she says and it’s enough to silence the glowering demon. The Doctor looks back at Amenadiel. “Why do you feel the need to keep things from us? Please, help us understand?”

“I...” All excuses and explanations die on his lips at the imploring look in her eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says finally, hanging his head. “I suppose... I’m just too used to dealing with everything on my own. It’s what was expected of me.”

And isn’t that the truest statement he’s ever made... He always needed to be ready at his Father’s every command... And he was – none of his struggles mattered, not when God relied on him. Everything else came second to being His most loyal servant. 

Oh, how it irked him then when Lucifer, whom God favored above everyone else – even his Firstborn – endlessly criticized the way Father treated His angels. Back then Amenadiel didn’t hesitate to call him an ungrateful brat... How dare he not appreciate Father’s benevolence when the majority of the angels would gladly give up both of their wings to find themselves in his privileged position? Some petty, resentful part of him rejoiced in Lucifer’s Fall because his willful lack of humility was finally met with a comeuppance.

Now the mere memory of this uncharitable thoughts makes something in him twists in abject shame. Lucifer was right all along but Amenadiel was to blind to see it and he actively helped to punish him for it. His time on Earth and especially his little family gave him a different perspective... but with this new understanding came horror over his past actions.

“You are an idiot,” Maze’s voice snaps him from his brooding. He looks up at her only to see that the corners of her mouth twist in a small smile. “But you are our idiot. When will you finally realize that we’ll be there when you need us?”

“I...” he stumbles over this one word.

It’s such a novel concept for him. Both of his parents are great at taking without giving much in return and his siblings... well, it’s an entirely different can of worms. For various reasons he never even considered nesting with anyone, let alone with such unusual mates. Most of the angels would say it’s a profanation of a nest to include other species, likewise, a romantic relationship would be unthinkable for them but Amenadiel doesn’t care. They’re unconventional but they chose each other despite all odds and they’re making it work.

He’d never forgive himself if he tarnished that with his mistakes.

“I’ll do my best to remember that and be more honest in the future,” he promises. He smiles hopefully. “Feel free to smack me if I forget.”

“Oh, you can count on it,” agrees Maze sternly but there’s an amused glint in her eyes.

“I’m proud of you, Amenadiel,” praises Linda and he preens. “It’s not easy to fight against lifetime habits. No one could ask for more.”

They all smile at each other and Amenadiel feels he can breathe again. He didn’t realize how much keeping secrets weighed on him.

“Okay then...” says Maze decisively. “Show us your wings then.”

Amenadiel swallows instinctual refusal. He takes a deep breath to calm himself and closes his eyes – he doesn’t want to see their reactions.

“It’s not a pretty sight,” he warns them.

With a soft whoosh, he spreads his wings and immediately winces when the movement causes few feathers to fall. One of the secondaries hangs on the last thread and it itches unbearably. He doesn’t need to open his eyes to know that remaining feathers lack their usual healthy gloss and his wings are littered with bald patches. The skin there is aggravated and it takes all his will to not scratch constantly.

Flying is out of the question.

“I suppose an appointment with some bird doctor is not an option?” says Maze.

Amenadiel opens his eyes only to glare at her.

“I’m not sick,” he grumbles.

He knows all too well that his pitiful condition has nothing to do with any disease of the body, it’s his spirit that suffers. Not that it makes dealing with this any easier.

“Well, maybe some aloe balm would help a little,” muses Maze, studying his poor wings thoughtfully.

“It’s of no use,” protest Amenadiel despairingly. “It won’t stop feathers from falling.”

Maze and Linda exchange looks.

“I’m not that kind of doctor but it should soothe the itching at least,” points out Linda matter-of-factly. Judging by the determined look in her eyes, she’s already planning how to tackle this task. “We could remove some loose feathers too.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” asks Maze rhetorically and marches off to the bathroom to gather what they need.

Soon Amenadiel finds himself lying comfortably on his stomach on their bed as Maze and Linda methodically clean his wings. Plucking some already damaged plumage and applying the balm on bared skin is soothing but even more so is their love. There’s some exasperation mixed with it but it only makes it feel more real. They’re still here even when he’s literally and figuratively falling.

It makes something in his heart melt.

“If you want to, when you’re ready, please, talk to me about what caused this,” says Linda. “We’ll get through this, you’ll see.”

At the moment, a lump in his throat doesn’t allow him to speak but he nods. Yes, they’ll get through this.

Together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just for clarification – if you’re an owner of a bird who’s losing feathers in an unusual way, take it to an avian vet. I didn’t do any research what to do in cases like this, I was pulling it all out of my arse.


	5. Credo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Michael are two very serious archangels who behave in a dignified way, befitting their exalted station in life... Yes, sure, they do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The credit for the chapter’s title goes to Lord of the Lost. 
> 
> Hay, anyone remembers this meme with two cats? The one with “He’s behind me making that fucking face again. I don’t even have to turn around to know it. God damn it”? Luci & Mike have similar energy in the first half of this chapter. Take a wild guess who is who here :D

“Dad damn it!” curses Michael, at the last moment intercepting a small casket before it could fall from the shelf and probably hit him on the head. “That was a close call.”

He glares at the offending item. Earlier he spotted something shiny and colorful, hanging tantalizingly from the topmost shelf so, of course, he needed to see what it is. When he pulled at it, the thingy turned out to be a stray pocket handkerchief... Unfortunately, the casket got dragged right along with it and treacherously assaulted him.

He shakes it and it rattles promisingly but when opened the casket reveals only mismatched cufflinks. Michael immediately loses interest and puts it back where he found it.

He narrows his eyes thoughtfully because it’s unusual for his neat-freak of a twin to leave such traps awaiting unsuspecting angels. They were admittedly pretty busy lately but Lucifer’s known to sort his clothes by color, for Hell’s sake.

And speaking of...

“Please, tell me you finally saw the light, realized the grievous error of your ways and you’re searching for something fashionable to wear,” says Lucifer, leaning on the doorframe.

Michael shots him a haughty look, not at all bothered that he got caught in the act of riding his closet.

“Quite to the contrary,” he replies, returning to his treasure hunt. “I’m merely trying to find something worthy liberating from your clutches.”

Lucifer sighs explosively.

“Would it kill you to wear a suit for _once_ in your life?”

“Perhaps not... but I’d rather not take that risk,” says Michael, shuddering theatrically.

“Whatever formal wear ever did to you?” asks despairingly Lucifer.

Michael abandons his task of digging through the Devil’s closet and turns around to face him. Predictably, his brother is sporting a hilariously offended expression. He’s clearly gearing up for another round of their eternal argument over their fashion choices.

“How can you even ask, when there’s such an abundance of horrors for everyone to see?” Michael announces with enough dramatic flair, he could as well be proclaiming a heavenly decree to faithful masses. “All over the universe, more often than not, the formal clothes are boring, uncomfortable and impractical,” He wrinkles his nose in distaste. “And itchy,” he adds seriously.

Lucifer looks considerably more offended than if someone insulted their entire family, starting with Mother and Father.

“Oh, Lord, forgive him, for he does not know what he’s saying. His ignorance truly knows no bounds of reason or decency,” bemoans Lucifer, shaking his head. “But it’s not too late for you to learn from your elders’ wisdom and finally admit that _my_ fashion sense is obviously superior.”

Michael needs to bite an inside of his cheek to stop himself from smirking.

“It saddens me greatly but I have to point out how horrendously mistaken you are, oh ancient one,” he intones gravely. “Maybe your senile age is to blame here but you seem unaware that the entirety of your wardrobe consists of coloristic variations of the same outfit. And that’s boring.”

This prompts Lucifer to start sputtering in outrage, before launching into a long and detailed explanation of why every one of his suits is unique in its design. From Michael’s point of view, they all look the same but getting Lucifer all puffed up is always fun...

Shaking with silent laughter, Michael dives back into the shirt section. He valiantly fights his way through neat rows of hanging garments until his eyes finally catch a promising flash of color in a dark corner.

“Oh, me likes,” he purrs.

He emerges from the sea of clothes and triumphantly shows his prize to his twin. Lucifer’s passionate tirade about the virtues of suits comes to an abrupt halt when he makes a noise of genuine distress.

“Oh, for love of Dad!” he whines. “Mike, please, tell me you’re at least not going to wear that thing with those trousers?”

Michael responds with his best Cheshire Cat’s grin. His pants are black with barely-there, dark-gray plaid, meanwhile the appropriated shirt is a silky, red thing with tasteful floral patterns. It’s a far cry from his usual style but oh well... he decided to plunder Lucifer’s closet in search of inspiration after all.

Some pattern mixing feels like a good idea... especially since Lucifer disapproves, much to Michael’s amusement.

“Oh no... you can’t go out like this,” he complains when Michael puts the shirt on. “What if someone confuses you with _me_? My reputation will be forever ruined.”

“I’m sure, they’ll admire ‘your’ wonderful and not at all conservative or boring fashion choices,” ripostes Michael, smiling ever so sweetly.

He finishes buttoning up the shirt, leaving the three topmost open. He gracefully spins around in front of the mirror, scrutinizing the effect. He briefly considers combing his curls but decides to leave them in their natural state of artistic mess, as God and Goddess intended. His eyeliner’s not smudged, his left ear is adorned with earrings... He’s ready to go.

He pulls an obligatory stupid face at his own reflection. Behind him, Lucifer closes his eyes like someone questioning all his life choices. This, of course, is Michael’s cue to wink at him and grin like a loon.

Lucifer squints at him, utterly scandalized with Michael’s choice of attire.

“You look like a millennial on a weekend night,” he grumbles. 

“Good. Attracting some specimens of their kind should be even easier then,” says pleased Michael.

He has every intention of getting into a close ‘acquaintance’ with some man, women, others – he doesn’t have any preferences here. Well, aside for avoiding people whose spirits are too tainted with darkness. As depressing as his insight into the souls of humankind usually is, at least it prevents him from sleeping with any repulsive individuals.

He firmly pushes those thoughts out of his mind. Thanks to Lucifer’s intervention, for the first time in... well, it’s been awhile, he’s not too sore to enjoy all the wonderful possibilities LA has to offer. He’s in a mood for some uncomplicated fun, never-mind that he still feels grating emptiness in the place where his wings should be...

“I think it’s Dad’s idea of a joke that I have an impeccable fashion sense and you... you’re the chaos personified,” complains Lucifer, gesticulating vehemently.

Well, thank God for the Devil and his gift for distracting him from lingering dark thoughts.

Michael grins impishly at his twin who immediately starts to look worried. And rightly so...

“Luci, light of my life,” he says in a singsong voice. “I love you but your fashion choices tend to be absolutely dreadful.”

“And what gave you that impression?” asks Lucifer, his eyes taking an apprehensive look. Clever Devil.

“One second, please,” Michael’s smirk gets strained as he struggles to retrieve his phone from his pocket. He likes big phones and skin-tight pants but the combination of those two poses a serious problem. “Aha!” he exclaims triumphantly when he finally manages. He quickly scrolls through his gallery. “Do you recognize this fetching monsieur here?”

He shows Lucifer a picture of a painting from the XVIII century France. Its main focus is a man in a period outfit and an absurdly large, powdered wig. He’s easily recognizable as Lucifer.

“Where the hell have you found it?” cries the appalled Devil, his eyes becoming hilariously round.

He attempts to snatch the phone but Michael dodges him, backing away toward the exit of the closet. There’s nothing on the phone that could lead Lucifer to the location of the painting... but Lucifer doesn’t know that.

“I have my ways,” Michael says cheerfully.

Truth be told, it wasn’t that hard since the notoriously vain Devil posed as a model for numerous artists over the ages. As god-awful as the wig is, it’s not even the most preposterous thing he ever wore... Oh no, Lucifer religiously kept track of humankind’s changeable fashion standards. On one hand, it allowed him to seamlessly blend in with the upper classes of the earthly society... on the other, occasionally he presented a truly comical sight.

Well, at least in Michael’s humble opinion because humans were always in awe. He’s somehow surprised that Lucifer doesn’t like wearing ties. They both agree that walking around with a small noose attached to one’s neck is a horrible idea. Whoever convinced everyone otherwise deserves to burn in Hell for all eternity.

“You look so lovely on this painting,” Michael says with mock seriousness, pretending to study the photo. “I think we should hang it in our living room. It’d look so classy over the fireplace...”

“I’ll turn your hair permanently pink if you do that,” threatens Lucifer, getting progressively more alarmed with every passing second.

Without a warning he launches another attack, dashing toward Michael like a well-aimed missile. The archangel bolts to the living room where he strategically retreats behind the piano.

“Or maybe I could set it as your profile picture on _all_ your social media accounts,” he teases.

At this stage, Lucifer’s face turns an interesting shade of purple and if he were a human, Michael would be worried he might pop an aneurysm. Since that’s impossible, he immensely enjoys this small payback.

Lucifer had it coming for the suggestion to drop him near the Area 51 or Chernobyl. He declared it a great idea because any weirdness there would be easy to blame on factors other than malfunctioning archangels. Admittedly some of Michael’s experiments with his powers misfired rather spectacularly and deserts around LA acquired several geologically impossible ravines and craters... And perhaps some specimens of local fauna and flora developed some bizarre features but still... Dragging into that aliens, radiation and shady government projects is an overkill.

Humans will probably believe that’s the case anyway, regardless of where strange occurrences took place...

“I think that wig would look especially good on your Tinder account,” adds Michael. “Imagine what kind of crowd it’d attract...”

“Don’t you dare...” Lucifer narrows his eyes, contemplating the best ways to catch him. “Or I’ll tell Amenadiel that it was you, not me, who spilled on him that stinky organic waste from one of Dad’s projects.”

“Go ahead. He stank under high heavens for a century, much to everyone’s entertainment. I deserve the credit.”

Lucifer makes a frustrated noise.

“Just tell me where I can find this accursed thing?” he demands.

“Nah-uh.”

Michael makes a beeline toward the elevator. The luck is on his side and the doors close behind him before Lucifer managed to catch up to him. The archangel cackles loudly at the screech of infernal rage, echoing behind him. He has a feeling he just sent his twin on a quest to find the painting at any cost. He’ll probably even succeed...

It doesn’t matter, Michael decides gleefully. He’s made sure that the painting with the wig (and all others immortalizing Lucifer’s bad choices) has a few conveniently hidden copies...

* * *

By the time Michael returns home, it’s very late or very early, depending on how you look at it. He thoroughly exhausted his lovers – truly, the stamina of mortals in this day and age leaves a lot to be desired – but he couldn’t be bothered to stay and sleep alongside them. Likewise, he dislikes inviting strangers to his personal space, so he prefers to have his sexcapades everywhere but his own bed.

He navigates through the darkened penthouse, heading straight for a passage located in the den. It’s one of the improvements they’ve recently made and thanks to that he no longer has to pass through Lucifer’s bedroom to get to his suite. Suffice to say it’s a relief for them both... Michael didn’t enjoy tripping over Lucifer’s lovers or – Dad have mercy – risking walking in on him indulging in his favorite ‘sin’. The potential awkwardness wasn’t an issue earlier when he could simply fly in or out as he pleased but the loss of his wings complicated matters.

The new corridor is a useful addition but it was only the beginning of all the remodeling they’ve done in the past few weeks. They’ve left the general ambiance of their home the same but changed enough for Lucifer to not be constantly assaulted with reminders of a certain unfortunate event that took place here. Hopefully, it’ll help him to move on...

And on that note, Lucifer invited Michael to make the penthouse his nest too. It’s a relief – ever since dear old Dad exiled Lucifer, Michael felt adrift and uprooted too. Now that part of him finally starts to settle.

Not that it solves everything, far from it. He can’t help but think that Lucifer’s indulging him after their latest family barbeque...

Michael shudders at the memory and decides to treat himself to a long, relaxing shower. (He’s beyond happy that he and Lucifer don’t share a bathroom. The feathery fusspot spends geological ages on making himself pretty. Every. Single. Day. Sometimes more than once...)

It’s almost 7 am by the time he plops down on his round bed placed in the middle of the room. Thanks to the full-length windows covering the whole wall, ha has a great view of the awakening LA. As he observes humans cursing through the morning rush, he decides against trying to sleep today.

Between two full-time jobs (ruling Silver City and preventing any undeserving souls from sneaking into Heaven) and his varying hobbies (like fraternizing with the Devil and his demons), sleeping has never been high on his list of priorities. He supposes the old habits die hard, besides he doesn’t need that much rest anyway. And his dreams have been rather unpleasant lately...

He’s about to start browsing his Kindle for something to entertain himself with when he hears a scream.

_Lucifer_’s scream.

Without wasting even a second, Michael jumps out of the bed and swiftly grabs his sword hidden underneath it. For once he remembers that using the wings isn’t an option but it’s of no consequence... He forcefully pushes himself through the layers of the reality and appears in Lucifer’s bedroom in a blink of an eye. He lands with more impetus than he intended, only to be greeted with another scream, this time that of a young woman.

Michael blinks slowly, taking in the scene in front of him. A very flustered Lucifer sits on the floor, still half-tangled in the sheets. Two naked women stare at them from the bed, understandably startled and confused after being so rudely awakened at such ungodly hour. To make the picture complete, Michael’s standing in the entrance in nothing but his sweatpants, with a sword raised in his hand.

A little too late he realizes that Lucifer probably had another nightmare and that’s why he screamed bloody murder.

“Ah, my apologies, ladies,” says Michael, sheepishly hiding the sword behind his back. Much to his horror, he realizes he made an entrance like a ruffian from some nonsensical bodice-ripper novel. “Pleasure to meet you, I’m sure.”

Even if he had any doubts before that their lives are a divine tragicomedy, they’re gone by now. They will never live this down if Maze ever hears about any of this.

“Please, stay your sword, brother,” says Lucifer, shakily picking himself from the floor. “It’s sweet of you to try to defend my virtue but that ship has long since sailed.”

Lucifer’s eyes are dark and haunted. Michael can clearly see the turmoil in them but it’s also obvious he’s trying to reassure his lovers with humor.

“Oh no, how shall I tell our mother?” he says, playing along. “Her poor old heart will break.”

This startles a snigger from Lucifer and a breathy giggle from one of the women.

“Dude, you scared the shit out of me,” she says, putting a hand over her heart. Despite that, she seems relieved.

“I’ve been told, I have a talent for that,” admits innocently Michael.

With a playful bow, he retreats to the living room and heads straight for the bar. His heart hammers and he’s a little dizzy – he needs alcohol. Fast. He puts the sword on the marble countertop and pours himself a glass, absently listening to Lucifer talking to his guests. By the sounds of it, the women decided that they might as well return home since it’s already morning.

Michael is relieved hearing their laughter. At least he didn’t accidentally traumatize two innocent humans when he appeared out of thin air like an utter moron. He’s angry with himself for being so reckless... Scaring mortals is one thing but if Lucifer were indeed in danger, rushing into action without thinking could end up badly for both of them. The problem is, he didn’t think _at all_ – he just reacted, terrified of what new horror befallen his brother.

He watches idly as Lucifer escorts his companions to the elevator, after ordering them Uber. Soon the Devil joins him and nods gratefully when Michael pushes a full glass toward him.

“You okay?” asks Lucifer, giving him a concerned look. He does that a lot lately...

“Sure,” Michael shoots him a quick smile, a tad too late smoothing down his features.

Truth is, he’s reeling from small vertigo he got when he catapulted himself directly from his room to Lucifer’s. Even without the wings to stabilize him, such a short jump shouldn’t have any consequences. The problem is, he’s been overtaxing himself lately – Lucifer’s not wrong about that – but Michael doesn’t see any other alternative. Getting himself back in shape is paramount.

They’re tired of living in constant fear of ‘daddy dearest’ terrorizing them. They have the beginnings of the plan on how to change that but Lucifer adamantly refused to start anything until Michael’s control over his powers is more reliable.

It’s depressing how right he is... If short-range teleportation made him dizzy, stirring trouble with the Almighty Bastard Himself is out of the question. It grates endlessly at Michael that his shortcomings are the reason for this delay.

“Are you alright?” he asks, instead of stewing in the unhappy thoughts. 

“I’m fine,” Lucifer replies in an identical tone as Michael did a moment before. He picks up the sword from the countertop and studies it with more interest than he’s ever shown to any weapon. “Is it the same one you stole from Maze back in Babylon?”

“‘Stole’ is such an unpleasant word...” he sniffs. “I’ve merely superseded her as the owner of this fine blade.”

“You have a death wish.”

“Nah, I’m Maze’s natural allay in keeping both you and Amenadiel on your toes. I’m fairly certain she won’t kill me,” he answers flippantly. Corners of Lucifer’s mouth twitch but his stare remains absent and turned inwards. “You know, earlier you sounded as scared as if you had a bunch of preschoolers unleashed on you...” Michael tries, earning himself a stinky eye from his twin. “You’re sure you’re alright?”

“Sorry for giving you a scare,” Lucifer smiles blandly. “I overreacted, obviously. Just some odd dreams, it’s nothing to worry about.”

Michael nods reluctantly but relents. Some time ago Lucifer’s made it clear that he doesn’t want to discuss his night-terrors with him. The thing is, sometimes he’s very vocal during them; it’s not unusual for him to repeat the names of their Father or Chloe... or cry for Michael. The archangel’s neither deaf nor stupid, he can make an educated guess what horrors plague his brother.

He supposes that at least some of it boils down to Lucifer’s paralyzing fear of abandonment. It took him months to even acknowledge Michael’s attempts to solicit his approval to nest together. As a matter of fact, he didn’t... not until they were released from Heaven. The archangel has a sick feeling that given the circumstances, Lucifer would probably agree to anything to appease him. Michael’s been beyond careful to not exploit that in any way and, as a result, he ended up walking on eggshells around his twin. Lucifer, on the other hand, sometimes seems light-years away as if expecting that everything will fall apart at any moment.

Despite that fatalistic approach, the Devil’s been the first to break the status quo when he tended to Michael’s aching scars. It’s hardly a surprise – he’s always been the brave one of the two of them. All Michael can do is to try to meet him halfway.

“If you’re not planning on catching more sleep, how do you feel about some preening?” he asks tentatively. “It’s been a while, you probably look like Sam the Eagle.”

Lucifer shifts nervously.

“Oh, please... the Devil could never look as ridiculous as some Muppet,” he says haughtily. “Thank you but I’m good.”

Michael stifles a sigh – he expected something along these lines. Ever since their loving Father saw fit to mess them up (again), Lucifer hasn’t allowed him to touch his wings. He’s been even reluctant to show or use them around him. At first, Michael assumed, he simply didn’t want to remind him of his loss... By now, it’s obvious it’s more than that.

Michael considers himself a selfish being by nature but he could never begrudge his brother enjoying his wings... especially after countless ages of feeling ambivalent about them.

“Yes, but since when preening is only about practicality?” he insists. “If I’m not mistaken, you don’t have any plans until noon. We have time.” 

Lucifer stares at him with fearful eyes, giving a good impression of a deer in headlights. Michael feels rotten for putting that look on his face but he’s at a loss how else to proceed. If he touches his feathers, they’ll convey his emotions to Lucifer...

Of course, it’s precisely what terrifies the Devil so much.

“I’m sure we can find something more interesting to do with our time,” says apprehensively Lucifer. “Miss Lopez insists we should try ‘Supernatural’, how do you feel about that? It’s probably horrid and wildly inaccurate but it could be amusing, don’t you think?” he chuckles with forced enthusiasm, compulsively smoothing down his robe. “I heard, they made God a dick so I’m inclined to be merciful and don’t sue the creators for the unavoidable defamation.”

And he’s babbling which is a never good sign with him. By the looks of it, he convinced himself that preening will confirm his fears and he’s working himself into anxiety over this. Michael reluctantly decides to play dirty.

“I really _miss_ grooming your wings,” he says honestly. “Will you let me?”

Lucifer visibly deflates. He nods with a quiet resignation that breaks Michael’s heart a little.

“Of course,” he relents with an empty smile.

Not waiting for a replay, Lucifer marches off with an air of someone heading for their own execution. He picks up a pillow from the couch and drops it on the fluffy carpet in front of the fireplace. He lowers himself gracefully to lie down on his stomach with his face buried in the pillow. His radiant, white wings appear with a soft whoosh.

“Go ahead,” he says, his voice muffled by the pillow.

Michael’s getting seriously worried he might have pushed too hard. The alternative is to let Lucifer stew in his insecurities and doubts but still...

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” he reminds quietly, approaching his prone brother.

“No, it’s alright,” says Lucifer hollowly.

By now the archangel feels like crying. Lucifer’s continuous reluctance to let him preen his wings is a confirmation that he expects it to be painful. For an angel having their wings touched with negative intent would be downright unbearable. Lucifer seems to believe that Michael would do that to him on purpose and yet he’s ready to _let_ that happen anyway.

This realization makes the archangel feel sick to his stomach but he’s neither mad nor surprised. Considering Lucifer’s long history of being mistreated in various and creative forms, it’s understandable he doesn’t expect anything else.

Even from him.

“I’ll never hurt you on purpose,” avows Michael, kneeling beside Lucifer. He brushes his hand through his hair, trying to calm him a little. “If you want me to stop, tell me at any time.”

He experimentally strokes the coverts on the ridge of the closest wing. Lucifer immediately tenses and lets out a startled hiss. Michael freezes, panicking internally.

He doesn’t have any negative feelings toward his brother but he’s not a little saint either. For eons, he’s harbored nothing but cold hatred and resentment toward God. This time though, dear old Dad went too far with His sick games and the hate turned into rage. Michael’s no longer willing to keep his head down nor dreams simply of escaping Father’s dominion. No, this time he wants vengeance...

Not that it’s likely to happen any time soon but it doesn’t discourage him. One of the upsides of being approximately fourteen billion years old is that he’s learned to be patient. He can wait for _their_ time.

Michael’s not ashamed of this dark whirlpool of emotions. He’s only worried that Lucifer might misinterpret it as something aimed at him.

“You’re alright, Luci?” he asks worriedly.

Lucifer nods wordlessly with his face still pressed into the pillow. Michael bits his lip.

“Am I causing you pain?” he questions, ready to back off if that’s the case.

This time Lucifer shakes his head in negative. Michael closes his eyes for a moment, releasing a relieved sigh.

“Do you want me to continue?”

The Devil nods his consent so Michael proceeds to comb through his tertials. He still watches keenly for any signs of distress so it doesn’t escape his attention when small tremors start to wreck Lucifer’s frame. A soft sob soon follows.

Michael immediately snatches his hands from his brother’s plumage like burned.

“_Don’t_ stop,” mumbles Lucifer.

His wing flaps and lands unceremoniously on Michael’s lap. He stares at it uncertainly.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yes,” Lucifer sounds assertive, despite tears gleaming on the visible part of his face. “Go on. Please.”

It’s another situation when Michael misses his wings dearly. If he still had them, he could use them to asses Lucifer’s emotional state. Since it’s no longer an option he has to go out on a limb here and hope for the best.

“Please, let me know if you want me to stop,” he implores.

Michael waits until his twin nods his assent before resuming straightening his feathers with gentle strokes. This whole time Lucifer’s crying silently but his wings no longer are laying limply on the floor. Soon Michael finds himself all but enveloped in them.

He just hopes those tears aren’t a bad thing but a badly needed emotional release. He knows Lucifer hasn’t forgiven himself for cutting off his wings. Despite doing the best in the nightmarish circumstances, he still blames himself and expected the same condemnation from Michael. Feeling that through his wings would be excruciatingly painful, no wonder he was so afraid.

For Michael, this is the whole point of this preening session. He hopes it’ll be an irrefutable proof he doesn’t blame Lucifer for anything, that he still wants him in his life. Perhaps, it’ll be enough for the Devil to forgive himself.

As misplaced as Lucifer’s guilt is, it was to be expected, considering how badly Father screwed with his head. After all, what’s a more efficient way to break someone inherently kind than making him believe he’s responsible for the suffering of countless people? Lucifer endured eons of being blamed for all evils of this world, of being called a vile monster and treated accordingly by everyone, _especially_ their family. Some part of him was bound to start believing the worst about himself, despite rationally knowing none of the slander is true.

Dad knew exactly what kind of effect it’ll have on Lucifer when He coerced him into cutting off Michael’s wings. The Old Bastard never liked how close they are and it’s not His first attempt to drive a wedge between them.

Sometimes Michael hates how well he understand Father and His motivations. Not that this understanding ever brought them closer... more like ensured mutual loathing and disgust.

He’s half-way through the second wing when he notices that Lucifer cried himself to sleep. Despite tear tracks on his cheek, he seems peaceful. Unhurriedly Michael finishes grooming his feathers but when he makes a move to leave, a noise of protest escapes the Devil. He calms down when the archangel resumes petting his wing.

“Have it your way,” mutters Michael with a half-smile.

Carefully he crawls under Lucifer’s wing. He plans to stay only until his brother falls into a deeper sleep but it’s nice and warm under the blanket of feathers. Well, there’s no harm in letting his eyes rest for a moment...

New day finds them both sleeping soundly, sprawled comfortably on the carpet like kittens.


	6. Nighttime Rebel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer deals with various family members. He’s not particularly happy about that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The credit for the chapter’s title belongs to Powerwolf. 
> 
> Apologies for a super long delay :( Let’s just say that my creativity was directed elsewhere as I’m broke and I've been busy with a job hunt. And, yup, that’s why I've been updating so erratically for some time now. Thankfully, I got hired by a company I actually want to work for and that considerably improved my mental state and mood. Hopefully, my creativity will recover soon :) 
> 
> (Especially when my bank account will finally stop glaring at me reproachfully lol)

“I will break you,” growls the Devil darkly. “I will rip all your secrets from your memory. There’s no escaping me. You’re only postponing the unavoidable.”

His glare would make most mortals (and immortals) pee themselves, sadly it doesn’t have any effect on its current recipient – Michael’s phone. The device rests calmly in his hand and stubbornly refuses to reveal its secrets, namely any clues about the whereabouts of that damnable painting with the wig.

In the privacy of his own mind, Lucifer admits it wasn’t the most fortunate fashion choice he’s ever made. Regardless of that, he saw no harm in allowing that lovely lad to paint him and then he promptly forgot all about it... Well, at least until certain curly-haired menace decided to drag it back from the obscurity.

He still has no idea how Michael found it but he needs to retrieve it from his clutches. He’s ninety-nine percent sure his twin was only joking when he threatened to reveal that monstrosity to the world but it’s better to save him from the temptation. He doesn’t have the best history of resisting them.

The first step of his brilliant plan of locating the painting was filching the phone from Michael in hopes of finding some clues. It turned out to be a child’s play. No-one knows better than the Devil that the formidable Commander of the Heavenly Host can be easily distracted with anything pretty, shiny or tasty. Belgian chocolate in a colorful wrapping did the trick and Michael went about his day, blessedly oblivious that his phone got kidnapped.

The difficulties started afterward... The phone is password protected and Lucifer can’t figure out the right combination. He tried to unlock it using the facial recognition and the fingerprint scanner but his efforts were thwarted... And how’s that even possible? Michael and he are identical, damn it, and that includes their fingerprints. They should be indistinguishable to a stupid human device. 

The answer became glaringly obvious pretty soon when Lucifer tried to override the technology using his mojo... and failed. By the looks of it, Michael enchanted the phone somehow, making it Satan-proof.

Dad damn it...

Lucifer narrows his eyes contemplatively. Perhaps, it can be unlocked only by some specific facial expression? Knowing his dork of a brother it’s probably something utterly ridiculous...

With a longsuffering sigh, Lucifer stars to make faces at the phone. His only consolation in this situation is that he’s sitting alone on the balcony and no-one can see him making an idiot out of himself.

“Brother, are you feeling well?”

Startled Lucifer almost drops the phone, his face frozen in a nonsensical grimace.

“Bloody Hell, Raphael!” he gasps, looking up at his sister. She’s perched on the railing like a large bird with her blue wings neatly folded on her back. In any other circumstances, he’d be impressed with her ability to keep balance in high heels on such a narrow surface but now he’s too busy trying to not spontaneously combust. “Have you ever heard about knocking?”

“I have but we’re outdoors,” she shrugs, unrepentant. She tilts her head curiously. “Are you alright? You look positively constipated.”

Disgruntled Lucifer quickly smoothes his features into something more dignified.

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, standing up to avoid craning his neck to look at her. “It’s all Mike’s fault. He’s a pest.”

“It’s good to hear he’s back to being his usual annoying self,” declares Raphael, grinning cheekily but there’s a hint of seriousness in her eyes. “You must be doing something right. He’s been awfully moody for several thousand years now.”

The Devil harrumphs unhappily. Michael doing an impression of an apocalyptic thundercloud was a predictable effect of leaving him to deal with Dad on his own, without Lucifer as a buffer. It’s a miracle Silver City didn’t go down in flames from the resulting tension.

“May I enter?” asks Raphael politely.

To illustrate her point she extends her hand and spreads her slender fingers like a mime pretending there’s an invisible barrier in front of her. Of course, in her case, the barrier is very real. The twins have finally put the angel-proofing spell on the penthouse. They don’t want to take a chance that another of their siblings might get some brilliant ideas about sneaking into their aerie. Screw their pride, sleeping with one eye open is no way to live.

That being said, Lucifer doesn’t suspect Raphael of having some nefarious intentions... He’s simply distrustful on a principle. Providing her with access to their nest would be foolish.

“I’m afraid not,” he says coolly. “I can hear you perfectly well as we are.”

“Rude,” pouts Raphael, puffing up her feathers a little.

Lucifer levels her with an unimpressed look. He’s not interested in pretending they’re one big happy family only because they’ve agreed to a cease-fire for now.

“What are you doing here?” he demands. “Aren’t you worried Dad will put you in the naughty corner for hanging out with a rebel swine like myself?”

“Not particularly,” she says, pointedly ignoring his taunts. “It’d be pretty hypocritical of Him to do so since He said you’re welcome to return to Silver City. He even told us to _expect_ you.”

He barely stops himself from wincing when a sudden pang of anxiety twists his guts into pretzels. Father’s premonition that Lucifer will come to Him willingly haunts him in his nightmares.

“Let me guess...” he drawls silkily, carefully keeping any signs of disquiet from his face and voice. “The Old Bastard is getting impatient so He sent you, dear sister, to give me a little nudge? Is that it?”

Raphael rolls her eyes skywards.

“Actually, no, He didn’t. I came here entirely on my own. I hate to break it to you, Lucifer, but not everyone is trying to manipulate you,” she waves her hand dismissively, prompting him to glower. Being paranoid is a common sense with a family like his. “Is it so hard to believe I simply wanted to see you?”

He smiles humorlessly.

“Careful,” he warns her. “Someone might get the impression that you care.”

All traces of amusement disappear from Raphael’s face.

“I _do_ care,” she protests seriously, her large dark eyes taking on a hurt look.

Lucifer just scoffs bitterly.

“You have a funny way of showing that,” he states dryly. “Eighty thousand years and you don’t call, you don’t write... I hate to think about how you treat people you dislike.”

“Lucifer, I love you and I truly wish things were different,” she informs him with an unusually somber mien. “But Father explicitly forbade us from contacting you unless necessary. You know that. If I had disobeyed, I’d have probably ended up in Hell and I don’t believe I would survive that. There’s so much pain there...”

This time Lucifer winces. Oddly enough, he feels better having a confirmation that Raphael didn’t blindly trust Father but simply put her own survival first. He doesn’t begrudge her that – nothing can erase ages of being abandoned but her reasoning is something he can understand and forgive. After all, he knows how much earning Dad’s displeasure would cost her...

Humanity’s sacred scripts proclaim that the universe was created perfect but this belief couldn’t be further from the truth. God and Goddess’ ideas of how everything should work were very different and that led to major inconsistencies and disharmony in their great work. Additionally, sometimes they relegated some of the tasks to the twins, usually without clear instructions of what they wanted. (They assumed their parents couldn’t agree on anything so they used their sons as a convenient middle ground). Lucifer and Michael had to figure out everything on their own... it’s really not their fault that occasionally something exploded.

In short, the universe was a partially improvised patchwork and even the godly egos couldn’t obscure that fact forever. As a solution, the almighty pair created their fifth child – Raphael Azarias [1]. Her task was to smooth down the rough edges of the creation and fix what was broken or dysfunctional. Later on, her abilities translated well into the gift of healing wounds of flesh and mind.

Raphael’s first instinct has always been to mend things and in Hell, it would unavoidably drove her insane. There could be no other outcome with the infernal realm consisting mostly of the things broken beyond repair or simply not worth saving. It would crush her, unrevealing her strength bit by bit.

Lucifer’s big enough Devil to put aside his hurt feelings and admit that his sister’s decision to keep her distance was probably for the best.

“Anyway, I assumed you’ll be fine...” adds Raphael, probably noticing his softening demeanor. “I’ve always known that you and Michael used your unforgivably theatrical fights as an excuse to spent some time together.”

“Oh really?” Lucifer drawls with a pout. They did their best to look convincing, damn it. Having their efforts called ‘theatrical’ is pretty insulting. “And you didn’t say anything to anyone?”

“And what would that accomplish, aside for getting Michael into trouble?” she asks with an impatient huff. “Father wouldn’t have left such open disobedience unpunished if everyone found out about your shenanigans. You two were smart to keep up the charade of being mortal enemies.”

Lucifer nods slowly. Dear old Dad spent ridiculous amounts of time on failed attempts to initiate rivalry between him and Michael. They figured that if they fake antagonism and play into His narrative, He’ll be more willing to look the other way.

“You seem to know awfully lot,” he says.

“Oh, please, how gullible do you think I am?” scoffs Raphael. “You two were practically joined at the hip ever since I remember... It was rather hard to believe that you suddenly started to hate each other. And if you were really fighting, you both would be considerably more battered up afterward.”

“Thank you for keeping it to yourself then.” Lucifer is genuinely grateful. She’s not wrong that Michael would have had hell to pay if someone revealed their subterfuge.

For a moment there’s silence between them but it’s considerably more companionable than Lucifer thought possible. He feels oddly light at the realization that another of his siblings doesn’t seem to despise him and won’t fight him unless forced.

In any case, it’s nice to spend some time with someone with a functioning fashion sense... Raphael would never prance around in a nightmarish combo of florals and plaid.

“I meant what I said earlier that you’re welcome to return to Heaven,” she says after a moment. The look Lucifer gives her is one of pure disbelief. “Oh, you won’t win any popularity contests there, that’s for sure, but _some_ angels, myself included, would be happy to have you back. Many of us never hated you but we didn’t dare to say or do anything,” she continues earnestly but then she suddenly smiles wryly. “And I’ll gladly give you back your former job. God knows I don’t want it.”

Lucifer blinks quickly a few times to clear his oddly blurry vision.

“Raphael, I appreciate the sentiment, I truly do,” he says warmly. “So please don’t take it personally when I say I’d rather go back to Hell than Heaven.”

Raphael sighs but doesn’t seem surprised. She’s about to say something when the elevator’s doors open, revealing Michael.

“Luci, have you seen my pho... Oh, hi, Raphael.”

He looks questioningly at Lucifer who offers a small shrug and a smile as a response. Raphael waves in greeting and Michael grins, sensing a relaxed atmosphere between his siblings.

“How’s it going, sis?” he asks, joining them on the balcony. “Enjoying your promotion?”

“No,” grumbles Raphael. “It’s actually why I’m here, I need to ask you two something. Back in the day, you set wardings separating the Empyrean and Silver City from the part of Heaven dedicated to human souls... are they really necessary?”

Lucifer frowns, not sure where she’s going with that.

“We decided it’s for the best,” he explains, absently playing with his ring. “The human souls are much more fragile than the angels. A few centuries of being in such close proximity to God could prove to be too much for them.”

“This way they can bask in peace, instead of being blazed with the divine glory,” chimes in Michael. “Why do you ask? Has some idiot messed that up?”

“Yes, and you have one guess who,” confirms Raphael with a scowl. “Cleaning Gabriel’s messes is getting old pretty fast. If he’ll ever get his powers back, I’m going to throttle him, I swear.”

A sudden realization makes Lucifer chortle.

“Oh, so that’s why you tried to talk me into returning to Silver City,” he crows. “You wanted to dump the whole circus on the poor unsuspecting me. You cunning little minx.”

Raphael makes a hilariously offended face. She grabs some dirt from the nearest flowerpot and throws it at... Michael.

“Hey!” he yelps, brushing the dirt from his shirt. “How’s that fair?”

“Lucifer’s clothes are nicer than yours,” Raphael shrugs, gracing him with her most beatific smile.

Michael’s glare could freeze hellfire but has absolutely no effect on her. Lucifer guffaws loudly and playfully nudges his sulking twin.

“From the mouths of babes,” he giggles.

In response, both archangels scowl at him.

“Keep talking like that, brother, and I’ll find a way to get the itching powder between your feathers. Again,” threatens Raphael. Lucifer promptly shuts up – it’d be unwise even for the Devil to court the wrath of his little sister. “Anyway, it was nice to see you both but I probably should be going back. I don’t want to leave others unsupervised for too long, they might accidentally break something important.”

Not waiting for their response Raphael spreads her wings and pushes herself off the railing. As she vanishes in the thin air, traveling between dimensions, Lucifer wonders if she was in such a hurry to leave because of his twin. They get along well but dear old Dad condemned Michael so Raphael - as circumspect as she is - probably didn’t want to push her luck by talking to him for too long. It feels surreal that the Devil isn’t a persona non grata any longer but Michael is instead.

He chooses not to mention his suspicions to his twin. He’ll figure that out soon enough if he hasn’t already... and apparently he has no intention of dwelling on the subject.

“Oh, you found my phone, Luci,” Michael chirps happily, snatching the almost forgotten item from the Devil’s grasp. “So thoughtful of you to keep an eye on it for me.”

This cheeky little shit... Michael’s dark eyes are sparkling with merriment, suggesting he knows precisely how and why the phone ended up in Lucifer’s custody. The Devil attempts to glare but he fails miserably, unable to contain a wide smile. 

“Just so you know, archangel, even God Himself won’t stop me from uncovering all your secrets,” he declares with mock seriousness. He’s on a quest and while he failed to obtain any information about the location of the painting, he’s not discouraged.

Michael snorts, pocketing his phone.

“You shall not prevail, Satan,” he declares haughtily, turning to leave. “All your schemes are for nothing.”

“We shall see,” drawls Lucifer.

He watches amusedly as Michael heads toward the elevator. Perhaps, Raphael was onto something when she said they’ve been ‘unforgivably theatrical’ when they pretended to fight... Not that it matters – what’s important is how much fun they have doing so.

He’s beyond relieved that the tension between them evaporated. He’s spent so long worrying about the worst outcomes of Dad’s manipulations... It wasn’t even the pain that he feared – it’s an old acquaintance of his – but what would happen if Michael turned against him if their relationship would survive such a breach of their mutual trust. Even thinking about it is unbearable.

Perhaps it was unfair to Michael to doubt him like that but Lucifer’s been the universe’s whipping boy for so long... At some point, he’s learned to accept such treatment – it hurt _less_ when he didn’t expect anything else.

He’s never been happier to be proven wrong than when Michael’s touch on his wings offered only love-compassion-concern.

It feels so nice to be treated like a _person_ for a change. Lucifer could really get used to this.

* * *

Lucifer knows he’s asleep but it doesn’t feel like a dream when he soars through dimensions. It all feels disturbingly real... and strange. He intimately knows the structure of the universe, he shaped light and energy into a form it currently occupies, he’s made the stars... He can clearly see galaxies endlessly swirling in their majestic dance and yet he has no memory of this place. He’s completely lost.

He frantically flaps his wings, makings himself fly faster but it doesn’t change his predicament. He stretches his senses as far as possible in a desperate attempt to find something – _anything_ – familiar but there’s nothing. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he’s in an entirely different universe. He’s all alone. 

Lucifer doesn’t like any of this. He wants out. Right-bloody-now!

He focuses all his considerable will on discerning the borders of this creation, looking for any weak spots. The very momentum of his passage causes the reality to tremble and shift but his frustration only increases when it doesn’t lend him any results.

He forces himself to halt, his muscles trembling with nervous energy... Dashing around like a wild animal in a cage won’t help. All around him scintillating patterns of this strange universe thrum in a foreign harmony as if mocking him.

He frowns, not sure how he can see the patterns so clearly... He never had the patience to master them, it’s always been Uriel’s job.

“Hello, son.”

Lucifer almost jumps out of his skin when he hears a voice behind him. He whirls around and finds himself eye to eye with God.

“Bloody Hell!” he exclaims, fear turning his blood into ice.

His first instinct is to make a run for it but that’d be an exercise in futility. For some convoluted reason, dear old Dad brought him here – it’s unlikely He’ll let Lucifer go before He’s done with him. Having no other choice, the Devil squares his shoulders and glares at the radiant splendor of God’s manifestation. It’s an empty gesture but he makes his pinions sharpen anyway – his pride doesn’t allow him anything less.

“What do You want, old man?” he asks sharply, making a vague gesture at the strange universe surrendering them. “What is this place? Is this even real?”

Much to his dismay, Dad smiles with as much saccharine indulgence as if Lucifer were a century-old fledgling getting adorably upset over some nonsense. And isn’t that insulting... Perhaps, he should be grateful God is being condescending instead of raining punishment on His recusant son but it only makes him fume with impotent anger.

“This is the universe... or more precisely the universe as it always should have been,” explains God, spreading his hands wide as if in welcome. “And to answer your question, no, it is not real per se. Regrettably, it is only a dream for now.”

Hearing this, Lucifer frowns in trepidation because it means that the standard rules don’t apply here. How is he going to getaway? Being completely at Father’s nonexistent mercy is a dreadful prospect.

“What do you think?” prompts God at his prolonging silence.

Lucifer swallows harshly as he looks around. Everything here is meticulously planned in the smallest details, past, present, and future. There’s no room for error in this orderly universe, light and dark are in a perfect balance with each other in an endless, intricate tapestry of patterns...

And it’s possibly the most terrifying place the Devil’s ever seen and that includes the darkest depths of Hell.

“I think it’s a prison of predestination,” he says finally. “I cannot imagine any sentient being who would willingly choose this place as their home,” he lets his mouth twist in a derisive smirk. “I believe that after a few eons even _You_ would start craving a little bit of randomness if only to kill the boredom of controlling everything.”

God stares at him in a way that makes Lucifer want to curl up in abject fear.

“Samael,” He says without any intonation. “I enjoy your facetious attitude but take care to not forget your place.”

Lucifer barely represses a shudder. He doesn’t particularly fancy being burned alive or discorporated or thrown into an abyss (again!) but he’s not going to betray himself by becoming God’s flunkey. On the upside, it’s only them here so Dad can’t torture anyone Lucifer cares about just to make a bloody point...

“Well, You asked for _my_ opinion, there You have it,” Lucifer says, raising his chin defiantly. “I won’t take it back only because You can’t handle constructive criticism. If You wanted only mindless praise, You have an entire Heaven of angels for that. I’m sure, all of them would love nothing more than sing laudations in soprano... baritone?” he continues, throwing his self-preservation instinct out of the window. “Falsetto?” he adds doubtfully, wrinkling his nose.

There’s a moment of oppressive silence when Father only stares at him and it takes all Lucifer’s willpower to not twitch nervously. Finally, God similes slowly and it feels as if clouds dissipated, revealing the sun.

Apparently, it occurred to Him that you can’t teach an old Devil new tricks.

“I suppose, your perspective is severely limited as the creation you were born into is profoundly flowed,” He allows generously. Lucifer fights the urge to grit his teeth. “It has been unavoidable as your Mother polluted it with her chaotic influence... The truth is, it was never meant to last as long as it did. Despite that, I have decided to use it as the place for you and the chosen ones of your siblings to mature and become the best versions of yourselves so you could better fulfill your true destinies. This, however?” he gestures at the surrendering them galaxies. “This universe is going to be perfect.”

There’s no denying that this creation lacks the chaos Lucifer’s so used to but it doesn’t make it any _less_ cruel than the old one. The main difference is that here all struggles are utterly pointless as everything is mapped out in advance by despotic destiny. Any freedom in this creation would be that of a laboratory rat forever entrapped in its scrupulously controlled environment.

“If this universe is so oh perfect, why do You even bother with dragging me here?” asks darkly Lucifer. “Isn’t it rather counterproductive to import the Devil?”

“Quite the contrary,” assures Dad brightly. “Your input would be rather valuable here.”

Lucifer shakes his head mutely. He feels like an old piece of furniture – used up and battered – brought to a new house build in an entirely different style. He doesn’t fit here but most importantly he doesn’t want to stay here even a second longer than he has to.

“I’m afraid I’m incompatible with this creation on a fundamental level,” he states honestly. “I don’t think _any_ version of me could ever live here and don’t chafe under the weight of preordination. It’d be unbearable.”

Father looks at him in a way that makes him feel insignificant and worthless... and damn it, he doesn’t care for the old man’s disapproval! Lucifer hates this pathetic part of himself that still yearns for Dad’s love.

“Your words are the proof that your brother failed in his purpose...” muses God more to himself than to Lucifer who frowns in confusion. “Think about what you’ve seen here, son. In this place, you could finally leave behind being the Devil and achieve everything you’ve ever meant to be.”

Lucifer’s about to protest but he never gets a chance as he’s unceremoniously sent back to wake up in his own bed in LA. He sits up abruptly, gasping like a drowning man and almost knocks down Michael who’s been hovering over him for some reason.

“Oh, thank fuck!” he exclaims.

“What?” mutters Lucifer, frantically grasping at the sheets to ensure himself that it’s all real. He’s back home.

“You were trashing and convulsing,” explains Michael. His eyes are wide and gleaming in the darkness, he’s obviously distressed. “I couldn’t wake you or reach you. It felt as if you weren’t even here.”

Lucifer wearily rubs his temples as a cold shudder wanders down his spine. He expected something along these lines but having confirmation isn’t any less chilling.

“What if I was possessed?” he jokes half-heartedly. “You should have got an exorcist.” 

“Hilarious,” Michael snarks without any intonation. “What the hell happened?”

“Oh, nothing much... I _only_ talked to Dad,” Lucifer says, attentively watching his twin’s reactions - it doesn’t disappoint.

_“What?!”_An ungodly pitch Michael reached makes Lucifer smirk a little.

“I think, brother dearest, it’s a high time for us to go to Hell,” he announces.

Michael blinks languidly as a dark smile twists his lips.

“I’d love nothing more,” he agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] Azarias means ‘God has helped’ in Hebrew. It’s a name Raphael used in the Bible when he was helping Tobias [Tobit 12:15].


	7. On the Edge of Honour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chloe believes her life is going to Hell. Lucifer and Michael went to Hell. Literally.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi there, sorry for a long wait but I was really busy this past month. I hope the length of this monstrosity will recompense for that somehow. 
> 
> Credit for the chapter title belongs to Hammerfall. 
> 
> CW: Lucifer blasphemes by misquoting Psalm 23:4 (RSV)

Chloe begins to suspect that the cosmic forces are conspiring to make her life miserable when her cruiser dies a premature death, dramatic clouds of smoke escaping from under its hood. The only thing that prevents her from losing her composure and releasing a string of curses are indifferent stares of her colleagues – she won’t make a spectacle out of herself for their amusement.

Thankfully Ella takes pity on her and offers her a ride home. Through most of the drive, Chloe tunes out her chatter, only making appropriate noises in the right places. Her mind is miles away as she ponders over what she’s learned from Gabriel – that Lucifer can spare her from damnation. The problem is, she still has no idea how to approach him. Despite her best intentions, she managed to hurt him and he’s clearly holding a grudge... He’ll probably refuse her anyway, especially with Michael and Maze not letting him forget her mistakes. If only they just stopped meddling...

“Right, Chloe?” asks Ella, snapping her out of her reverie.

“Oh, yeah, sure,” she nods quickly.

“You just agreed to rob a bank with me while wearing a costume of Xena,” Ella informs her matter-of-factly.

“What?!” squeaks Chloe, blinking rapidly.

A little too late she realizes that the car is parked in front of her house, the engine is turned off and Ella is staring at her expectantly.

“Okay, girl, that’s it. Spill,” the forensic scientist demands.

“Um, what do you mean?” she asks hesitantly.

“Look, I don’t want to pry but something’s obviously eating at you and it’s been going on for ages,” says Ella. “I’m really worried about you... so spill. What’s going on?”

Chloe huffs in frustration. Even Ella would think her crazy if she started to talk about angels and devils but truthfully it doesn’t matter. She always preferred to solve her problems on her own – relying on other people only ever leads to disappointment.

She’s learned that early on thanks to the overgrown child that is her mother. As for her dad, well... while he was as dependable as possible, he also had a busy job and then his life was cut short by a bullet. Chloe hoped that Dan might be a little like him but he failed her by putting work over his family one time too many. Better let’s not mention Marcus (ever!) and even Lucifer proved to be impossible to depend on when, instead of trusting her with his true identity, he chose to _deceive_ her. No wonder, it ended up badly for all involved.

So, no, Chloe can’t count on Ella. She can’t count on anyone but _herself_.

“I’m only... uh, I have some trouble sleeping lately,” she says lamely.

It’s not even a lie. Every time she falls asleep she’s plunged into a dark void; she’s only a consciousness suspended in an endless ocean of nothingness. She tries to run or scream but she can’t even tell if her efforts have any effect, if she moved at all. There’s absolutely nothing there – nothing to hear or see, no physical sensation whatsoever, only mindless fear and despair.

She wonders if it’s what Hell is like and if it’ll become her reality soon.

She’d do _anything_ to avoid that.

“You’ve been one of my closest friends since I’ve moved to LA,” reminds her Ella earnestly. “If there’s anything I can do, please, don’t hesitate to tell.”

“Thanks but I’m fine,” insists Chloe with a tightlipped smile. Unfortunately, Ella looks as if she were about to argue and Chloe doesn’t have the energy for that. “You know, I finished that book about the angels you’ve lent me,” she says, desperately trying to change the subject. She doesn’t give Ella a chance to replay as she unfastens the belt and opens the door, making a hasty retreat. “I completely forgot to return it. How about you wait a moment and I’ll bring it?” she asks quickly.

“Chloe...” sighs Ella but Chloe’s already dashing toward the porch of the house.

She’s so relieved she’s made her lucky escape from the Ella-inquisition, she completely forgot about her unwanted houseguest. She startles and swears loudly at the sight of Gabriel who’s playing with a brown feather at the breakfast counter. Her impetuous entrance makes him jump but he recovers in no time and swiftly hides the feather somewhere on his person.

“What’ve you got there?” she asks suspiciously.

“Nothing,” he says immediately, wariness practically emanating from him in waves.

“Sure,” she snaps exasperated.

He’s a considerably worse liar than a ten-year-old but getting straight answers out of him is about as pleasant as pulling teeth without anesthesia so she decides to let the matter rest for now. Who knows... perhaps the angels have some feathers-related quirks? Well, at least it seems harmless enough; she only hopes he won’t start dragging more trash like that to her house.

She glares at a box of sugary cereal he’s been munching. So far every celestial she’s encountered has a sweet tooth from Hell and Gabriel’s no exception here. He’s been lying waste to pretty much all sweets he managed to find.

“Keep eating that stuff and you’ll get diabetes and die,” she informs him, allowing herself a tiny bit of pettiness.

The look Gabriel gives her practically drips with disdain.

“Memento mori,” he replies dryly.

Chloe bristles. How does this morbid little bastard dare to remind her about the unavoidability of death, knowing what awaits her in the afterlife?

Thankfully for the insolent angel, Ella apparently got bored with waiting and choose this moment to peek inside.

“Oh, hi there,” she greets him. “I’m Ella.”

“Gabriel Malakiah,” he says, eying her distrustfully.

Ella being Ella doesn’t take his standoffishness to heart.

“Nice to meet you,” she declares cheerfully.

Chloe can only watch as Ella launches one of her sneaky hug-attacks on the unsuspecting angel, making him stiffen like a board. It’s the first time when she notices any familial resemblance between him and Lucifer. Just as in his brother’s case, the look on Gabriel’s face suggests that the thoughts running through his mind are something along the line of a panicked: ‘does it bite, is it trained to attack?’ It seems that an allergy to hugs is a family thing with angels.

Finally, Ella releases Gabriel, much to his evident relief.

“Any friend of Chloe’s is my friend,” she says with a grin.

“Well, calling us friends would be a gross overstatement,” the angel clarifies haughtily before Chloe has a chance to say anything. “I’m here only because Lucifer said so.”

“Huh,” Ella shoots Chloe an intrigued look. “How do you know him?”

“He’s my older brother,” explains Gabriel, not sounding particularly thrilled.

“Small world,” hums Ella. Her smile grows even wider; she’s clearly delighted with this discovery.

Chloe purses her lips, cursing internally because she had every intention of introducing Gabriel as her distant cousin... Well, to be fair, she hoped to keep him away from all hers and Lucifer’s mutual friends. She’d rather not give the angel an opportunity to tattle about what she did to the Devil – she has no doubt that the little shit could do that out of the spite alone. It makes his presence inconvenient, to put it mildly.

Hell, she can only hope that her mother won’t decide to pay her a surprise visit. She shudders in disgust at the mere thought of what conclusions Penelope would draw if she discovered that Chloe has a new housemate who happens to _look like_ a cute guy.

“Ah, yeah... I’m doing Lucifer a favor,” Chloe tells Ella at a loss what else to do. “Just give me a moment, I’ll get the book.” She shoots a warning glare at the angel. “I’ll be right back. _Behave_.”

Not waiting for an answer she practically runs toward the bedroom, wondering how the hell situation spiraled so badly out of control. She needs to find the blasted book and do it fast so she can send Ella on her merry way, away from Gabriel.

And here she thought she dodged the bullet when she shipped Trixie away to stay with Dan. Admittedly – putting aside the infamous pimp incident – Gabriel behaved well around the girl who got him wrapped around her little finger in no time at all. Chloe regrets not taking a picture to immortalize the flummoxed look on the angel’s face when her ten-year-old gave him a stern lecture on why he shouldn’t speak ill about Lucifer. Surprisingly, he made only cursory attempts to argue… not that he stood any chance against determined Trixie.

And that’s the problem – Chloe very much dislikes how chummy those two were becoming... She wouldn’t put it past Gabriel to tell Trixie about the poisoned wine debacle. That risk was simply unacceptable so her daughter had to go and stay at Dan’s. Chloe even convinced her to promise to not tell him about their new houseguest – the last thing she needs is her ex-husband sniffing around.

Now she just has to make sure that the useless angel won’t get an opportunity to tell anything incriminating to Ella.

She rushes toward the nightstand near her bed and curses when she doesn’t find the book there. She could swear she left it here... She checks under her pillow and then starts to frantically search on the bookstand. She turns half of her room upside down before she looks back at the nightstand and notices the book lying there innocently as if mocking her.

She glares at it in disbelief. She could swear it wasn’t there a minute ago. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say there’s a bunch of imps running around her house and messing around with her stuff to make her life even more miserable.

Frustrated, she grabs the book and marches back to the kitchen where she left Ella and Gabriel. She freezes in the doorway, out of their sight when she hears them laughing.

“I wish I had thought of something like that while I was still living with my family,” chortles Ella. “I can’t believe you did _that_.”

“Oh, yes, we did,” Gabriel confirms gleefully. “It didn’t take long before Lucifer barged in yelling: ‘what are these bloody goats doing here?”

Chloe raises her eyebrows at his surprisingly accurate mimicry of his brother’s indignant screeching.

“Gosh, it just had to be goats,” guffaws Ella. “I can imagine the look on Luce’s face...”

“Priceless,” agrees Gabriel, sounding unusually pleased with himself. “He chased me and Hanael all over Silver City but it was so worth it. And you know the best part? Since the goats _ate_ his wardrobe, he had to borrow some clothes from Michael who at the time was going through one of his wilder phases. Lucifer’s whining was something to behold, believe me.”

This makes Ella laugh even louder and Chloe blinks stunned. Are her ears deceiving her or is Gabriel telling embarrassing stories about Lucifer from before the Fall? She’s only left them unsupervised for a few minutes... And since when the angel even has a sense of humor? She probably shouldn’t be surprised he’s trying to be charming to get in Ella’s good graces... not that it’s hard to impress her. She’s too eager to believe in the best in people for her own good.

Chloe enters the kitchen and her sight makes Gabriel instantaneously stop giggling and smooth his futures into a stony mask. Ella, on the other hand, doesn’t pick up on the change in the atmosphere right away.

“Heh, Chloe, why didn’t you tell anyone Gabe’s staying with you?” she asks, still grinning. “We really should take him to drinks with us. What do you think?” she looks at the angel, making Chloe panic silently.

“I...”

“He’s busy,” Chloe says with emphasis, sending Gabriel a harsh stare.

“You are?” Ella frowns in confusion.

“_Apparently_, I am,” he says through gritted teeth.

Ella narrows her eyes, looking between them.

“Is everything okay with you two?” she asks, her amusement giving way to a genuine concern.

“Sure,” Chloe purses her lips in something resembling a smile. She hands her the book, perhaps a little more forcefully than she should. “Here. Thank you, it was quite an insightful read.”

Well, not really but she doesn’t want to hurt Ella’s feelings. A week ago she asked her for any pointers in her never-ending quest for answers about angels and afterlife. Sadly, the book turned out to be spectacularly useless. She’s fairly certain it got the hierarchy of heavenly choirs all wrong and that was one of its less glaring inaccuracies. The descriptions of the angels as beings with thousands of eyes or taking forms of wheels or chariots were completely outlandish since in reality they just look like humans with wings. Besides, even if they have some other forms it isn’t in any way relevant to her conundrum.

At some point, Chloe started to wonder if the difficulties with obtaining any reliable information about the angels aren’t a result of them purposefully muddling the waters to confuse humans.

And if that’s the case, _how_ father Kinley got his hands on a ritual powerful enough to cast the Devil to Hell?

“Well, I’m glad you liked it...” says Ella slowly. “You can tell me if something is wrong, alright?”

Much to Chloe’s chagrin, she looks at Gabriel who just shrugs, simultaneously making a dour face.

“Thanks, but we’re perfect,” she says quickly, not taking a chance that the angel might blabber something. “Thank you once again for giving me a ride. I owe you.”

She starts shepherding reluctant Ella toward the door.

“No problem,” she says hesitantly but allows herself to be escorted out.

Chloe sighs in relief after the door finally closed behind her. Perhaps, she was a little rude but thankfully her friend doesn’t hold grudges. She’ll get over it.

“What have you told her?” Chloe demands, turning toward Gabriel.

“Nothing of any consequence,” he says with an annoyed huff.

She crosses her arms over her chest, staring at him suspiciously but then she decides he’s probably telling the truth. Unlike him, Ella isn’t deceitful, she would confront Chloe right away if she found out something she shouldn’t. Still, it was a close call and she can only congratulate herself a foresight of taking steps to prevent situations like that from arising in the future.

“You seem pretty bored,” declares Chloe. “We probably should find something constructive for you to do with your time.”

“I’m not bored,” protest Gabriel, suddenly alarmed.

“Well, too bad,” she says using an identical tone as she does when Trixie tries to weasel her way from cleaning up her room. “I’ve arranged for you to help in the vineyard of one of the local churches.”

“What?” Gabriel’s eyes widen in disbelief. “You must be joking.”

“I’m not,” she informs him calmly. “I think that talking to the pastor will be quite illuminating for you.”

She’s met father Anthony when she asked him for permission to check the church’s library. The impression the reverend has left on her was that of someone deeply religious but also closed-minded and intolerant. His pointed remarks when he found out that she’s a divorced single mom were proof enough of that. She’d prefer to not talk to him again... but he’s a perfect solution for her Gabriel situation.

“You’re starting tomorrow,” she adds.

“That’s... out of the question,” the angel sputters. “I have a bad history with the organized religion.”

It’s her turn to stare at him incredulously. He’s _the_ archangel Gabriel, known and venerated across three monotheistic religions. Admittedly, he falls short of his own legend but it’s not like _he_ has anything to complain about.

“Sure,” she drawls with an eye roll. “Wasn’t it you who carried the Word of God to humankind? I’d say, you can reap what you sow.”

“It’s you, humans, not me who twisted the messages of God into something unrecognizable,” he protests, now openly outraged. “I’m still at a loss how you managed to misinterpret the commandments to love God and be kind to each other as permission to kill, torture, rape and plunder in the name of God for a political and economic gain of privileged few,” he shakes his head, his lips twisting in disgust. “I don’t understand your kind. Frankly, I _don’t_ want to understand.”

“Wonderful,” she says sweetly. “Then you’ll have an opportunity to see how the _real_ world works from a close-up.”

“I refuse,” he hisses stubbornly. “Half a millennium ago Michael proclaimed the Christianity... well, any and all religions, as miscarried investments. We’ve been gradually letting them go ever since. I won’t go against his edict.”

Chloe releases an exasperated breath. No wonder, things are as they are since the angels shun their duties.

“You know, you don’t have to obey Michael any longer,” she points out impatiently.

“Oh, I’m aware,” he answers glumly. “But in this case, I wholeheartedly agree with him. Unless Father orders me otherwise, I don’t want to have anything to do with humanity’s beliefs ever again in any way or form. I can’t.”

For a moment they glare at each other in a silent standoff. Gabriel is practically fuming and if the mutinous gleam in his eyes is any indicator, this time he’s not willing to back down. Chloe clenches her fists realizing that her control over the angel is slipping... and since she can’t afford that, she has no choice but to take a calculated risk.

“Funny you should mention all of that... because you don’t seem to have any holdbacks from using the church when it’s convenient,” she says slowly, watching his reactions like a hawk. “The ritual that sent Lucifer to Hell...” she continues and Gabriel visibly stiffens. “Father Kinley didn’t get his hands on it by an accident, did he? It was _you_ who made sure that happened, right?” It was a shot in the dark but the look of sheer panic on his face is all the confirmation she needs. She smirks triumphantly. “Well, I think, it’s something Lucifer would really want to know, don’t you agree?”

Gabriel blanches.

“No, please, don’t tell him,” he protests. “If he’ll ever find out about that...”

“I assume, he’ll lose what little patience he still has for you,” she finishes with satisfaction. “And what was that Michael said about ripping your soul to shreds? Sounded pretty unpleasant if you ask me.”

She can practically see as Gabriel’s short-lived defiance flickers and dies, familiar bleakness returning to his gaze. 

“Please, don’t tell them,” he repeats.

Chloe taps her chin with her finger, pretending to think about it.

“Perhaps I won’t. But if I were you, I’d be really careful what I say and to whom,” she warns darkly. “Oh, and be a good little angel and do as you’re told.”

She doesn’t even need to hear his answer – his defeated expression tells her all she needs to know.

* * *

The powerful gusts of wind arisen by the beating of the Devil’s wings make Hell’s ever-present ash swirl in ghostly clouds. Lucifer wrinkles his nose in distaste as he lands – he’s almost forgotten how much he hates it. Looking anywhere near presentable is nigh-impossible even for him in this ungodly conditions.

With a weary sigh, he folds his wings on his back – their soft light will serve as a warning for the demons to not mess with them. He lets go of his passenger and Michael immediately looks around curiously.

“Huh... Hell’s gotten a tad hotter than I remember it,” he observes.

Lucifer winces, pointedly avoiding looking at distant walls of flames shooting up hundreds of kilometers high. They cast a garish glow on the dark clouds and mountains without really illuminating anything, making the shadows appear even deeper.

“Well... the last time I was here, I set most of the dimension on fire,” admits Lucifer reluctantly. “It seems, it’s still burning.”

Michael’s eyes take on a mournful look as he wordlessly touches Lucifer’s shoulder. The Devil pats his hand in response – he’s not even remotely happy about being back in Hell but the company makes it somehow bearable.

He forcefully pushes aside the memories of those thousands of years of wrath and pain, when he could do nothing but lash out in despair. He refuses to dwell on that – they’re here for a reason.

“Come on,” he says with a tightlipped smile. “We’ll walk the rest of the way.”

They’re about to enter the maze between the black monuments when a suspicious rustling in one of the corridors makes them freeze. Lucifer spreads his wings menacingly in hopes of scaring off any potential threats – he’s not in a mood for battling the demons. Michael has other ideas though.

“Hey there, demons! It’s me, ya boi,” [1] he singsongs, taking a step toward the source of noises.

There’s a frightened squeak from the darkness, promptly followed by the sound of quickly receding footsteps. Whoever that was wisely decided that the encounter with both twins at the same time probably wouldn’t be recommendable for their general wellbeing.

Lucifer wheezes in laughter.

“You’re ridiculous, Mickey. Utterly ridiculous,” he declares. “That’s why I can’t take you anywhere.”

“But the demons love me,” pouts Michael.

“Clearly,” drawls Lucifer, trying and failing to suppress a grin.

All in all, he’s glad that the demon ran off. It will probably save them time and effort if the creature let everything that lives here know that they’re coming. And that at least one of them is in a fairly sour mood. [2] Knowing what awaits them at the end of their journey, Lucifer can’t bring himself to share Michael’s buoyancy.

“Let’s go,” he says with a sigh.

He pulls his smirking brother toward the right passage, not giving him a chance to wander off somewhere he shouldn’t. It doesn’t take long before the darkness between the obsidian walls swallows them. The very matter of this place seems to repel the light cast by the distant flames. The daring luminescence of Lucifer’s feathers is the only thing that defies the eternal murk that reigns here.

In other regions of Hell, the cells aren’t locked but here all the doors are secured with heavy chains. Some of them rattle as the beings entrapped inside struggle futilely to get out; their screams don’t even resemble anything that could be produced by human throats... And to be fair, some of them never were humans...

The further they go the more sparse the signs of life become. Soon they’re surrendered by oppressive stillness and silence that feels considerably more sinister than the most horrid of cries.

Despite the ground being almost perfectly flat, Lucifer can’t shake the feeling of descending deeper down into the abyss. He knows, of course, it’s his physical senses that are being deceived. He’s not surprised – he didn’t expect anything else, given their destination.

He takes one more turn and finds himself standing over a precipice. Sharp rocks protruding from the edge are like broken teeth of some ancient beast. They’re the only barrier between them and the seemingly boundless ocean of faintly fluorescent mist spreading below. The air is so dry it almost burns but simultaneously it’s colder than the void between stars.

“I’ve never been here before,” says Michael, his voice barely above a whisper. Even he is reluctant to disturb the grave silence of this place – it feels like an almost sentient, malicious entity ready to snuffle all life it can reach. “What in the buggering Hell is this place?

“Something you need to see,” Lucifer informs him.

The angels as a species avoid Hell on principle – they know that most of them wouldn’t stand a chance against horrors lurking here. Even those able to survive an ill-conceived trip downstairs, probably wouldn’t escape it with their sanity intact. For example, Amenadiel, who was appointed to patrol Hell’s borders during Lucifer’s absence, only rarely dared to venture deeper into the dimension. He never even attempted to become its ruler.

Michael being Michael, in his typical fashion of being contrary, decided long ago that Hell is a perfect _holiday_ spot for him. Admittedly not much can truly hurt a demiurge... nonetheless Lucifer’s never allowed him to come anywhere near this particular region. He wanted to spare him from the burden of _knowledge_ about the nightmare hidden deep in the bowels of Hell...

Unfortunately, the circumstances being as they are, Lucifer can’t afford to protect him any longer. His brother’s particular set of talents is crucial for his plan – Michael needs to see, needs to understand. It’s the reason why the Devil chose to take a ‘scenic’ route through Hell.

Lucifer makes his way toward the clearing between the rocks and gazes at the barely visible path leading down into the impenetrable mist. He slowly turns to look back at his brother. Michael’s almost completely enshrouded with shadows but his eyes are like twin dots of white fire, clearly visible even in this place of eternal darkness.

“Follow me,” Lucifer commands softly. “Keep close. I can’t guarantee, you’ll _ever_ be found if you get lost.”

Michael rolls his shoulders in a familiar gesture and releases a frustrated growl when nothing happens.

“Lead the way,” he agrees.

Lucifer takes in a fortifying breath and makes his power surge like a tidal wave, enveloping both of them in a sphere of light. He has no intention of allowing the fog to touch them.

Unhurriedly he descends the rocky path with Michael close at his side and in no time they find themselves surrendered by the mist. Not even their eyes are sharp enough to pierce the thick vapor. It whirls ominously and the Devil feels pressure from all directions as it greedily pushes against his shield of light... It takes a considerable effort of will to press forward, forcing the mist to split.

It doesn’t take long before the ever-shifting vapor starts to coagulate into thicker clouds here and there. Lucifer observes these phenomena grimly – he knows his mere presence lures _them_ closer, the same way flame attracts moths... and with a very similar effect. He doesn’t know why they’re so drawn to him – perhaps something about him brings back memories of the light and life they’ve irrevocably lost.

He doesn’t even blink when one of the thicker clouds suddenly takes on a vaguely humanoid shape. Its most discernible feature is the face twisted in unspeakable agony, its mouth open in a soundless scream. The wraith launches itself toward the archangels and promptly dissolves back into nothingness, annihilated by the seductive light it was powerless to resist.

Michael startles violently.

“Unholy mother of fuck!” he hisses. He’s tense as a bowstring about to snap as he glares at the mist suspiciously, searching for possible threats. “What on God’s hairy balls was that?”

Lucifer rolls his eyes. Trust Michael, who on his good day swears like a drunk Russian sailor, to get truly poetic in circumstances like this.

“That, brother dearest, was what’s left of a soul after it’s been put through recycling,” Lucifer explains.

Michael blinks, clearly confused but then he unavoidably grasps the meaning of what Lucifer said.

“Wait...” he gasps. All blood drains from his face, leaving him as pale as a ghost. “Are you saying that this thing was a soul once?” He frantically waves his hands as if in an attempt to encompass the seemingly endless ocean of mist. “This... _all of this_... are those decomposed souls?”

Lucifer nods slowly, staring at translucent shapes gathering around them. They’re grotesquely misshapen and twisted beyond recognition – they’ve long since forgotten the forms they once had; only his presence brings back some vague recollections. None of them looks similar to the others but one thing they all have in common is almost palpable anguish and despair they project. The very sight of them invokes irrepressible fear and disgust, the instinctual need to get away, to run as fast as possible from this place of ultimate damnation. The Devil doesn’t want to know what would happen if they managed to touch any living being.

“Yes,” Lucifer confirms absently, his voice unnaturally loud in the deathly silence. “Mortals and immortals, gods and beasts... they’re all united here. All those unfortunate bastards whose spirits never found their way to the Realms of Light...” The Devil finally looks his twin in the eye. “The irredeemable ones, the ones _we_ didn’t release from perdition. Slowly but surely Hell corroded and destroyed souls who’s stayed here past their endurance.” Michael stares at him in mute horror and Lucifer returns to a contemplation of tormented shades desperately reaching out toward two archangels... wherever in hopes of salvation or attempts at revenge he’s not sure. “The ages of torture tore at them, stripping them of their memories, their will to survive... even their sense of self. They’ve been unrevealed to the point when there is nothing left of them but metaphysical waste.”

Michael looks vaguely ill as he stares at the fog. It takes him a few attempts before he regains control over his voice.

“There must be untold _billions_ of them here,” he breathes at last and Lucifer nods in confirmation. From all over Hell, through all times and ages, the remnants of destroyed souls gravitated toward this valley, with no hope of rest or peace, condemned to mindless suffering forevermore. “But why do they gather in this particular place?”

“Don’t you feel it?” asks the Devil. “Don’t you recognize it?”

Michael takes a few breaths, struggling to regain his composure. Lucifer can clearly see the moment when he finally senses it...

The epicenter of darkness.

Their destination.

“Yes,” admits Michael quietly. “Yes, I do.” He looks at Lucifer morosely, with uncharacteristic vulnerability written all over his futures. “Everything about this is monstrous.”

The Devil chortles darkly, not caring about a note of insanity creeping into his laughter.

“Oh, but this is what dear old Dad deemed a fitting fate for everyone and everything that’s not perfect enough to deserve a place in His creation,” he says with a mock levity. “How blasphemous of you to call His Great Plan monstrous.”

“Lucifer,” Michael says softly.

The Devil pays him no mind as the eons-old resentment boils in him like a venom.

“Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil, for I rely on _my own_ power, my own mind. I don’t have any faith in God,” he sneers hatefully. “I curse His name from the bottom of my heart, for he abandoned me, His son, to perish here right along with all those pitiful wretches.”

He would have evanesced here if his light had been merely a reflection of God’s splendor, instead of belonging to him. He wouldn’t have survived if his brother hadn’t loved him enough to heal him when he was at his lowest.

“Lucifer,” repeats Michael, not trying to diminish his grief with pointless words.

The Devil allows him to pull him closer and presses their foreheads together. They remain standing like this for a moment – wherever they mourn the existence Father condemned them to or the fate of all those unfortunate souls, he cannot tell. Frankly, it doesn’t even matter at this point.

“Come on,” says at last Lucifer.

He pulls Michael behind him as he starts walking briskly, studiously ignoring a retinue of wraiths relentlessly following them. He can’t see anything through the spectral mist but he doesn’t need to – the sirens call, the gravitational pull of the core of the infernal realm is enough to guide him.

Time and distance lose all meaning as they wander through this valley of death; it could be centuries as well as minutes. No sounds of the outside world – or even other regions of Hell – can reach them here. It’d be easy to forget that the outside world exists at all...

At the long last, Lucifer notices some dark shapes looming in the eternal murk ahead of them. He quickens his gait, eager to leave the shades of broken souls behind. Soon, they find themselves standing under a large rock formation, its top invisible in the fog.

Lucifer starts to poke around between boulders in a search for the passage that will take them underground...

“If anything could induce an angel to think about the possibility of their _final_ death, this place would be it,” announces Michael gravely, gazing back in the general direction they’ve come from.

Lucifer purses his lips unhappily. He desperately wishes the circumstances were different and he didn’t have to show Michael any of this.

“Well, it’s certainly a sufficient reminder that everyone can meet their end, no matter who they are,” he points out. “Even _gods_...”

“Amen to that,” Michael agrees darkly.

Finally, Lucifer finds an entrance to a cave and steps inside. Steep stairs take them deep into the bowels of Hell through countless twists and turns, until the passage widens suddenly and they enter an enormous cavern. Even Lucifer’s light isn’t bright enough to reach its ends. Some of the ghostly fog whirls at their feet but the most striking thing about this place is the stone it's carved into...

Well, at first glance, it appears to be stone but in fact, it’s something quite different. The matter not only resists the light... it seems to _devour_ it.

Lucifer represses a shudder. He’s a being of light, fire and wide expanses of open skies... the condensed darkness of this place puts him on edge.

“And now we’ve reached the subbasement of Dad’s glorious universe. We’re as far away from Him as possible,” he announces and looks at Michael expectantly. “Can you do this?”

Michael closes his eyes as he touches the nearest wall with the tips of his fingers to get a better feel of the power thrumming through the cavern.

“Of course. It’s like riding a bike,” he says calmly. The ambiance of the cave doesn’t make him even remotely as apprehensive as Lucifer feels. Not that it’s a surprise... Michael sighs and opens his eyes, sensing the Devil’s skeptical stare. “Luci, relax. It’s well within my basic skill-set, just like the desire thingy is yours.”

Despite his lingering doubts, Lucifer refrains from commenting, letting Michael do his thing. It wouldn’t do to distract him...

He watches in fascination as the volatile power of the cavern submits to Michael’s command. Something resembling a dark membrane emerges from the wall... or perhaps it’s the wall itself extending. The dark mass of... energy-void-destruction stretches itself above and around them like a shroud and Lucifer instinctually ruffles his feathers, struggling against the urge to lash out against it. Soon the darkness surrounds them like an impenetrable barrier, separating them from the rest of the creation.

The Devil shift uneasily, not liking in the slightest how out of his element he feels – he’s able to batter the darkness into submission but he can’t mold it to his wishes as his twin does. They’ve been created with the identical power but their areas of expertise differ vastly. While Lucifer had been helping Father with harnessing fire and energy, Michael was busy assisting Mother in securing the primordial darkness away from the rest of the creation. It was deemed too volatile, too dangerous element to be of any use so they entrapped it in a separate dimension, later on called Hell...

Or, as Lucifer likes to put it – Dad’s favorite garbage dump. Given what’s lurking right underneath its surface, Hell could never be anything other than the place of damnation and torment. It’s been tainted from the very beginning.

“Don’t worry, little brother,” assures Michael. Lucifer scowls when his twin pets the dark matter fondly as if rewarding it for obeying him so faithfully. “I have this under control.”

The Devil’s scowl deepens – coming here was his idea but it doesn’t mean he has to like it.

“You think it’ll suffice to hide us from Dad?” he asks.

Back when the universe was still new and they were young angels, barely more than fledglings, they liked to play and experiment with their powers. Michael did the same thing then and covered them both in a bubble of darkness. In doing so he accidentally gave their parents quite a scare since neither God nor Goddess could find or sense them when they were hidden like this.

Now they’re hoping to recreate the same effect to obscure their thoughts from Father...

“If this is not enough, nothing else will be,” shrugs Michael.

God claimed He’s never controlled their minds and Lucifer’s inclined to believe Him. Dad wouldn’t squander ages on manipulating and harrowing them into doing His bidding if He could _manually_ mold them to His wishes. Perhaps, they’ve grown too strong for that... perhaps, He has some other reasons...

Be it as it may, there’s still a possibility He might eavesdrop on them. It’d be bloody inconvenient if the ancient bastard chose to listen just when they’re plotting against Him...

The main point of their trip to Hell was making sure it won’t be possible even for God.

“So,” says Lucifer.

“So,” repeats Michael. “What did Dad want from you?”

“Oh, the usual. He continues to whine about the universe being too chaotic for His taste,” says Lucifer. “And I think He showed me what His end goal is. He seemed to be in quite a hurry to get there. I assume that’s why He opted for a more direct approach lately.”

After that, he launches into a detailed tale about his dream-conference with God.

“What do you think it all means?” asks Michael frowning. “Is He planning to refurnish our universe or... is He going to call it quits, erase it all and start anew?”

“Don’t know but it’d feel like an end of the world either way,” answers agitated Lucifer, gesticulating wildly. “Currently His omnipresence connects Him with every atom of the creation so He can easily control and shift patterns as He pleases. In His perfect universe, He wouldn’t have to bother with such gymnastic because He’d have had everything planned from the beginning to the end.” Lucifer shifts anxiously, not bothering to hide how disturbed he is by the possibility. “His omnipotence would be absolute.”

“Damn... and I naively thought He’s impossible to coexist with now,” mutters horrified Michael. “We probably should consider as a backup plan leaving His dominion entirely.”

Lucifer nods reluctantly, not thrilled with that perspective – he’d only take that step if all other options failed. The void outside the universe’s boarders is full of untold dangers, ruins of creations long since burned out and the creatures lurking there... Well, anything able to survive the destruction of its own universe by definition isn’t something any sane person would want to meet.

They had glimpses of what’s out there when the world was still new and some of those beings tried to get in and take over. They defeated the invaders but the Host of Heaven suffered horrible losses then. It’s probably a good thing that Goddess’ libido provided the universe with an almost endless supply of angels as cannon fodder.

In short, venturing into the void could end up tragically even for Lucifer and Michael. The problem is, that staying, only to become God’s puppets, wouldn’t be living either.

“Well, Dad doesn’t control us _yet_,” points out Lucifer sanguinely. “He told me, we escaped His original plan... and that you failed in your purpose.”

“Right... did He happen to mention how exactly have I done that?” asks Michael, rubbing his eyelids tiredly. “I would love to put messing up God’s plan in my resume. I just wish to know _how_, since I wasn’t actively trying.”

Lucifer shrugs. That’s a prime example of Dad’s mind working in mysterious ways.

“I think it was His roundabout way of saying He disapproves of our life choices in general,” he muses. “As always.”

Michael stares straight ahead, his eyes taking on a distant look as he ponders over implications of God’s cryptic words. Finally, he shakes his head, giving up.

“You mentioned, you have the beginnings of a plan?” he asks. “Are you thinking about using this?”

He gestures at enveloping them primordial darkness. Lucifer smirks smugly – he’s been waiting for that question.

“I’m sure He expects that. I have something else in mind.” He reaches toward Michael and gently touches his temple with the tips of his fingers. “May I?”

Michael nods and Lucifer allows his thoughts and memories to flow directly to him. He’s spent long, oh so long, ages here in Hell. He had plenty of time to dabble in the universe’s worst filth and contemplate it from every distasteful angle. It gnawed at him endlessly that he’s blamed for all of this, despite not being the one who allowed the seeds of evil to take a root and spread...

Regardless of how bitter it makes him, it also gave him an idea. He’s been waiting for a very long time to share it with his twin brother.

“Oh...” Michael’s eyes widen in awe when the understanding downs on him. “That would be poetic justice.”

“My thoughts exactly,” agrees pleased Lucifer. “But I’d need your help with that... do you think we can pull this off?”

“Absolutely," Michael’s grin is positively devilish. "And speaking of... I’ve come bearing gifts." He touches Lucifer in a mirror image of the Devil’s earlier gesture. “May I?”

Lucifer consents without hesitation and soon his mind is flooded with thoughts not belonging to him. He frowns in concentration, analyzing the knowledge they carry – a spell he’s never heard of before. A startled chuckle escapes him when he realizes what it would do. It’d be a risky move but the prize would be worth it.

“That’s... Mike, you sly bastard. It’s exactly what we need,” he says delighted but then he frowns pensively. It’s one of the most complex spells he’s ever seen, it must have taken Michael ages to figure out its intricacies. “How long have you been working on that?”

“Well, pretty much since your Fall,” he confesses ruefully. “I assumed that one of these days you’ll want a rematch with Dad so I decided to be prepared _this_ time.” He looks down, a plethora of emotions running through his face too fast to discern. “I’d rather not be called a coward by you again.”

Lucifer sucks in a breath through clenched teeth, his guts twisting guiltily. He squeezes Michael’s hand comfortingly.

“I should have never said that to you,” he admits soberly. “You were right to be cautious, I should have listened to your warnings.”

Michael offers a small smile in response.

“Perhaps. But _you_ were right too,” he acknowledges. “I loathed pretty much everything about my life but I was too scared to do anything about that.”

For a moment they just smile at each other, the air between them much lighter despite the darkness all around them.

“So, do I have your support here, brother?” asks Lucifer.

“Always,” declares Michael immediately. “And this time we’ll be as prepared as possible.”

This prompts Lucifer to snort.

“Where would you be without this meticulous planning of yours?”

“Probably exactly where I am now since in nine out of ten cases I chase your reckless arse straight into trouble anyway,” ripostes Michael.

Lucifer just shrugs unrepentantly, still grinning – there’s no point in denying the facts. He sobers up quickly, though... they might joke and banter but they can’t escape the reality of what they’re planning to do.

“Before we try anything, I think we should put our affairs in order. You know... just in case,” says Lucifer hesitatingly and Michael nods, grim but determined. “Oh, and you should take it easy in the coming days. It wouldn’t do if you were too exhausted to do your part,” adds the Devil, causing his brother to glare mutinously. “Stop pouting, it’s unbecoming on the archangel your age.”

“My age?” protests indignant Michael. “You’re the eldest as you always remind me when you’re trying to boss me around.”

Lucifer levels him with an unimpressed look. It didn’t escape his attention that a few days ago Michael almost fainted after teleporting himself from one room to the other. His skills won’t matter if he’s too enervated to do anything.

“Mîkhā’ēl,” he says sternly.

“Fine,” huffs disgruntled Michael. “If I must.”

Lucifer stares at him askance before he decides his message has sunk. His brother is as stubborn as a mule but his not impervious to sense and reason. Usually.

A sudden realization makes Lucifer cackle loudly.

“What?” asks confused Michael.

“Dad might have been right after all," he says, still giggling uncontrollably. “I _will_ come to Him willingly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] It’s a quote from the The Ghosts and Demons Of Bobby Mackey's. This and the little wheeze afterwards is my salute to Buzzfeed Unsolved. What can I say? I really adore chaotic duos. 
> 
> [2] And this was a paraphrased quote from the comics (volume 38). Lucifer and Michael also went on a hike through the underworld btw. They argued considerably more than my duo.


	8. Till the Day I Die

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Devil starts to put his affairs in order...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, guys. I’m so very sorry for a ridiculously long delay. I’m still alive (that probably needs to be clarified given the world’s situation). I’ve been busy with my new work and life in general, and because of that I was too tired to write. With any luck, the next chapter won’t take so bloody long... 
> 
> I hope, you all are safe and secure, and the quarantine doesn’t make you climb the walls... 
> 
> Eh, no viruses (at least, not in this fic), so I probably should shut up now. 
> 
> The credit for the chapter's title goes to Halford. 
> 
> **TW:** an attempt at roofing (not anyone you know )

“Oh dear...” gasps Linda when Michael’s sword misses Maze’s throat by mere centimeters.

She parries with one of her karambits and the blades meet with enough force to cause a small rain of sparks to fall toward the floor. The demon and the archangel separate swiftly, only to start circling each other with feral grins. Without any warning, they return to exchanging attacks so fast that their moves probably are nothing but a blur to the eyes of a mortal. One could think they’re in the middle of a battle to the death but Lucifer’s not worried – he knows they’re only having some fun.

It all started with Maze demanding that Michael has to return the sword he’s stolen from her. Instead of resolving the issue of ownership like reasonable, mature immortals, they’ve decided to settle it by dueling. This, in turn, prompted the Devil to banished them both from the penthouse to the mostly empty floor below – they can fight here all they want without the risk of breaking something he treasures.

Linda decided to tag along to watch but, judging by the look on her face, she regrets that decision.

“Relax, Doctor,” says Lucifer when she jumps again. “They’re both too experienced warriors to cause any _real _damage on accident. And if they actually wanted to murder each other, they would do so long, long ago,” he adds when Linda shots him a skeptical stare.

“That’s not very reassuring,” she protests.

She winces when Maze throws one of her knives at Michael who intercepts it in the air and throws it back. The demon dodges gracefully, not slowing her attack even for a second as the blade embeds itself to the hilt in the wall behind her.

“Please, at least tell me that their weapons aren’t sharp?” asks Linda, clearly not having much hope for a positive answer.

“Of course, they are!” assures cheerfully Lucifer. “Where would be fun in that if they weren’t?”

“Oh, dear...” Linda repeats.

Lucifer only smiles nostalgically, recalling Maze and Michael’s first meeting. It happened shortly after he had become the King of Hell and suffice to say it didn’t go well. Maze as a Lilim harbored a hatred for all celestials and wasn’t at all happy about some arrogant angelic princeling prowling around her domain. Michael, on the other hand, felt as if he were being replaced by the demon because at the time Lucifer was still furious at him for not taking his side during the Rebellion.

Introducing them bore a startling resemblance to trying to convince two unfriendly cats to get along. It certainly involved a similar amount of hissing, growling and marking the territory... The exasperated Devil dabbled that as ‘the alpha predator nonsense’ and left them to that but after few mutual attempts at disemboweling, he had enough.

He declared that if they won’t start behaving in a civilized manner, he’ll personally incinerate both of them. After that Maze and Michael went through a prolonged period of haughtily pretending that the other doesn’t exist. Lucifer’s not sure how or why that changed but one day they buried the hatchet (thank Dad, not in someone’s head) and forged some unholy allegiance to gang upon him.

It was a relief that his best friend and his best... well, Michael started to get along but expecting them to behave in a civilized manner soon proved to be entirely unrealistic. Neither the demon nor the archangel could ever resist the urge to show to the world who’s the biggest badass. Lucifer doesn’t complain – their antics are an endless source of amusement for him.

“Stop worrying so much, dear Linda,” he says, patting the therapist’s hand reassuringly. “Throwing sharp objects at each other is their way of showing affection,” he explains. “Trust me, they’ll behave better if they tire each other out now...” Suddenly a new thought makes him grin salaciously and wiggle his eyebrows. “Unless, of course, you need Maze very energetic tonight for some reason?”

Linda sighs but the corners of her mouth turn slightly upwards.

“Well, yes, you see, we’ll planning to take Amen and...”

“Oh, no, no, no...” cries horrified Lucifer. “I do not need to know any details of that. That little demon is a bad influence on you,” he complains.

Linda’s smile turns wider.

“I only wanted to say that we all are planning to go on a long, relaxing walk on the beach,” she informs him innocently. “What else you were thinking about?”

“You’re a wicked, wicked woman,” declares the amused Devil, shaking his head.

“I’m sure I don’t know whatever do you mean,” Linda claims with mock seriousness, making Lucifer chuckle. For a moment they watch Michael and Maze in amiable silence before the doctor speaks again: “You seem to be in high spirits lately, Lucifer.”

The Devil doesn’t answer for a moment. 

“Yes, I suppose I am,” he admits finally, shooting Linda his most charming smile. “And it does credit to your marvelous work. I wouldn’t be where I am today without _you_.”

He wishes he could tell her about everything but it’d be too risky. He trusts her with his life – certainly with his sanity – but it’d be a child’s play for dear old Dad to overhear her thoughts, regardless of her wishes.

Linda blinks, clearly surprised by his declaration.

“Thank you, I appreciate you saying that, just don’t forget that you too deserve the credit for getting here,” she says slowly. “I’m happy to see you doing better but I wonder what changed?”

Lucifer’s smile becomes rueful... In truth, he feels as if he were finally able to breathe freely for the first time in... well, in an eternity. He’s spent ages struggling blindly with no hope for his situation ever-changing. All of his efforts were always thwarted even before the Fell, with his Father triumphing over him at every turn.

But now... now he has an achievable goal, something he can focus on and – who knows? – perhaps, even succeed.

He’s not a fool. He’s well aware of the dangers involved in their plan; there are countless ways it could go tragically wrong for them. Despite that he’s oddly calm – he’s finally playing by his own rules, not the ones enforced by his Father. Even if he is to go down, it’d be on his own terms.

“Well, perhaps I started to believe that the things might turn up well after all,” he says lightly. “Thank you, Doctor Linda, really. For _everything_.”

She frowns, apparently alarmed by something he said but she doesn’t get a chance to comment as they’re interrupted by the arrival of Amenadiel.

Lucifer groans internally seeing him. He’s been doing his best to avoid him ever since their last chat. In his opinion even attending Douche’s improv classes is preferable to talking about Amenadiel’s feelings.

“Luci,” the other archangel greets him gravely. “Can we speak for a moment?”

“You’re speaking to me right now,” grumbles Lucifer.

Linda looks back and forth between them, seemingly pleased with something.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” she says and – much to the Devil’s horror – walks away.

“I, uh, I need to apologize,” declares Amenadiel with no preamble.

“Yes, well, whatever you did _this _time, the apology accepted,” Lucifer quickly pats his shoulder. “Great talk. Let’s not repeat that at least until the next millennium.”

Screw his pride, he decides to make a run for it but, sadly, Amenadiel predicted that and intercepts him by grabbing his arm.

“No, Luci, wait,” he implores, for all intents and purposes looking as sad as a kicked puppy abandoned on a curb on a rainy night. “I need to say how sorry I am that I ever stopped to see you as my brother and instead, I treated you like an evil thing to be managed.” He shakes his head with regret. “I didn’t care how far I went in my attempts to send you back to Hell. I didn’t care how much harm I caused you in the process.”

With growing horror, Lucifer realizes that Amenadiel probably has a whole speech planned and is fully capable of going on in a similar manner for the next half an hour. This makes him feel like braining himself on the nearest wall... Why, just why, his idiot brother had to bring back the past when Lucifer’s doing his bloody best to leave it all behind? Eh, Amenadiel has always had a tragic timing.

The Devil needs an evacuation plan. Preferably, yesterday.

In a search for inspiration, he looks at Maze and Michael only to discover that they stopped fighting and they’re watching them like two demented cats. The Devil widens his eyes to convey his desperate need of rescue... right... bloody... now!

Maze only makes a face and shrugs while Michael tilts his head giving a convincing impression of truly angelic innocence. They’re both spectacularly unhelpful, the traitors. Lucifer scowls at them and decides that he needs to buy himself new friends when this is all over.

Sadly Amenadiel keeps talking, as always oblivious of his moods...

“And even before your Fall, I was so convinced of my own righteousness I never bothered to listen... to _truly _listen... to anything you had to say,” he admits. “My jealousy of Father’s favor made me blind to the way things were back at home.”

“It’s all water under the bridge, brother,” Lucifer chimes in quickly when Amenadiel stops to take a breath.

He almost means it. He doesn’t care for speeches and apologies – what are the words worth after so many eons of being treated like dirt? It’s the actions that matter and Amenadiel has already proven himself when he helped to rescue him from Hell. Only time will tell if this change of heart is permanent and if they can truly be a family, not just people related to each other.

Lucifer has no intention of dwelling on that now so it’s high time to distract Amenadiel.

“You really should go and apologize Mickey too,” he informs him, nodding sagely.

It takes all his willpower to contain a snort when he hears a hissed: “No, Dad damn it, Lucifer!” from Michael’s direction. Payback is a bitch, eh?

“What do you mean?” frowns Amenadiel.

“Well, everyone knows you _tried _to overthrow and replace him as the ruler of Heaven after Dad kicked me out,” continues Lucifer. He wraps his arm across Amenadiel’s shoulders and starts to drag him toward amused Maze and now openly glowering Michael. “Oh, I understand why you took the chance to improve your own standing in Silver City, who wouldn’t? But you must admit it was a dick move, right? I don’t imagine, you’ve ever made up for that, haven’t you?”

Amenadiel’s face falls.

“Oh, thank you so much for that, Luci,” Michael grouses when their eldest brother looks at him dolefully.

Let it not be said that the Devil isn’t magnanimous though, so he decides to help his twin a bit.

“Oh, and, Amenadiel, since we all love sharing, perhaps, you should tell the rest of the class about that time when you accidentally almost starred in a porn movie,” Lucifer suggests.

As predicted it immediately improves Michael’s mood.

“Wait... what?!” he crows with a positively evil gleam in his eyes.

Amenadiel chuckles nervously recognizing that look and knowing it means he’ll never live this down.

Lucifer mentally pats himself on the back, pleased with a work well done. It’s a wonderful thing to be able to rely on some constants in this changeable world... like, say, his twin’s tendency to be a little shit. Maybe, it wasn’t the nicest of Lucifer to unleash him on Amenadiel but if their eldest brother truly wants to be there for them more, now he has an opportunity to prove how determined he is.

One way or the other, it should be enough to keep him off the Devil’s back for the rest of the day.

“Mazie,” Lucifer singsongs, grabbing the demon’s hand and pulling her away from his brothers. “If you’re done playing with swords, I need to talk to you.”

Maze huffs in an exasperation, following him reluctantly. 

“It better to be good,” she complains. “I was enjoying that.”

She looks back longingly at mortified Amenadiel who, by the sounds of it, digs himself into even a deeper hole as he tries to explain how that thing with Misty Canyons was nothing but one big misunderstanding. Michael appears more and more delighted by the second.

Well, his brothers can entertain themselves – or, at least, Mike will – but Lucifer has other plans. He takes on a deep breath and unfolds his wings with a soft rustle of feathers. Maze watches him with wide eyes as he plucks one of his long primaries and extends it toward her.

“I have a gift for you,” he announces with uncharacteristic seriousness. “Will you allow me?”

Lucifer holds his breath as Maze stares at the glowing feather, weighting down the implications. Finally, she looks him straight in the eye and nods.

“Go ahead,” she agrees lowly.

Lucifer smiles in relief before pressing the feather to her sternum. It immediately starts glowing like a small star and the Devil wastes no time in shaping its power into its new form. Maze gasps loudly when a pair of dragon-like wings erupt from her shoulders. They’re black and purple; their edges are covered in scales sharp and hard like adamantine so they can serve as a weapon. They’re as powerful as the wings of an angel... just different looking.

He wishes that remaking Michael’s (Hell, or even Gabriel’s) wings was that simple but even he can’t restore something un-created by God Himself. The very reality resisted and defied his attempts when he tested that on his twin.

Maze doesn’t say a word when she spreads her new wings to their full extend and then flaps them experimentally a few times. She carefully folds one of them, bringing it close to her side so she can study it. She brushes the bony edge with the very tips of her fingers as if to make sure that they’re truly a part of her.

“You can hide them when you don’t need them,” Lucifer informs her. Her prolonged silence makes him worry that she’s displeased with them. He wants some feedback from her, preferably before he combusts. “They’re not just for flying, by the way, they can carry you through dimensions as well. I hope you like them?” he queries, squirming a little when Maze finally stops studying her new wings and looks back at him. “I can reshape them into any form you desire.”

“They’ll do,” Maze decides curtly but he knows her well enough to recognize the awe in her eyes. It’s been a while since the last time he managed that. This thought makes him sad. “Why?” she asks sharply.

“Can’t I simply do something nice for my best friend?” he asks with a rueful smile.

“No,” she denies immediately, crossing her arms over her chest. “What do you want in exchange?”

Lucifer feels gutted. He’s really messed up their relationship, hasn’t he?

“Nothing, Maze. They’re a gift,” he says softly. She still stares at him suspiciously and he realizes he needs to explain himself. Too many things were left unsaid between them as it is. “Some time ago you asked me to take you back to Hell but I refused,” he starts slowly. “I know you believe it was because of Chloe but the truth is that after everything we’ve gone through together the perspective of you leaving... well, it _terrified _me. It still does, to be honest,” he chuckles with a self-reproach. “I’m aware that I was selfish, heh, it’s something of my constant state as you know. But you deserve better,” he adds quickly when Maze’s eyes harden once again. He’s not trying to make excuses for himself here. “You’re not my servant but my friend and a free demon. I should have always treated you as such. Whatever you’ll decide, the choice is yours not mine to make...” Maze thoughtfully strikes her wing, contemplating his words and Lucifer’s heart sinks a little. He doesn’t think she’ll leave her nest-mates but some doubt always lingers... But how does that song go? If you love somebody, set them free? “Just so you know, I always love when you’re around and I appreciate your company more than you realize. In the future, I’ll endeavor to make that clear.”

He fights the urge to squirm under Maze’s scrutiny but after a few long moments she nods and Lucifer can breathe again knowing, she accepted his gift and explanations.

“Why now?” she asks.

Lucifer hesitates. With their future so uncertain, he and Michael want to make sure that all of their family and friends are well taken care of... Just in case.

And Maze... well, she deserved something special. She’s stayed with him through thick and thin. Even after all the upheavals, he put their relationship through lately, she’s still come true in the end. Without her help, there probably wouldn’t be enough of his sanity left to put back together after Chloe sent him to Hell. It’s a debt he can never fully repay but what’s more important is that she’s his oldest friend and he wanted to show her how much he appreciates that.

He wishes to tell her what gave him the push to put his affairs in order, to make up for his wrongs... But he can’t for the same reasons, he didn’t tell Linda.

Maze senses his hesitation and, of course, she mistakes it with distrust. He can clearly see as something shifts in her gaze when she’s starting to shut him off once again. It isn’t how he wanted it to go when he gifted her with wings – he hoped to open a new page in their history...

“Well... how shall I put it?” he starts thoughtfully, hoping it’ll be enough. “Mike and I, we’re planning to poke the sleeping dragon in the eye.”

Maze freezes, a new understanding alighting her futures. She’s a soldier but more importantly, she knows him – she immediately catches his meaning and realizes why he’s so stingy with details.

“Finally,” she says with satisfaction. “Can I do anything?”

Lucifer barely resists the urge to hug her. Odd. Beatrice is a bad influence on him, it’s definitely her fault.

“If one day we’ll disappear without a trace, we’d be grateful if you do a sweep through Hell,” he tells Maze. “You know, to check if there’s enough left of us to glue back.”

She nods resolutely.

“Consider it done.”

Lucifer decides that he has had enough of contemplating his and Michael’s possible demise. It’s a high time to annoy his demon a little bit.

“And while you’re at it you can pay a visit to your darling mother,” he suggests, playfully nudging Maze. Her relationship with Lilith is better than the one the Devil has with his Father... but only marginally. It’s one of the things they bonded over when they’ve first met. “I’m sure she’ll be so proud that you’re cavorting with not one but three angels those days.”

“Oh, go fuck yourself, Lucifer,” Maze scoffs, without any real heat. 

“Yes, I intend to do that later,” he smirks cheekily but his mirth soon fades. “Just don’t tell Amenadiel.”

No matter how far they’ve come, Lucifer can’t bring himself to trust him with their plans. Besides if things go south for them, Amenadiel will be safer not knowing. Perhaps, it’ll spare him from Dad’s retribution.

“Of course, I won’t tell him. I’m not stupid,” Maze rolls her eyes. “Perhaps, we should try to hook up my mother with your Dad. With any luck, they would destroy each other and the rest of us could enjoy life in peace.”

Lucifer snorts loudly.

“Two birds with one stone, I like that,” he praises. Maybe they can keep that as their plan ‘B’... He gives Maze an appraising look. “We probably should find some remote place for you to learn how to fly...”

He never gets a chance to finish, because Maze shots him a mischievous look and without any warning, she runs toward a balcony. Before Lucifer can stop her, she jumps out, disappearing over the edge. He rushes after her and looks over the railing just in time to see her leveling her flight and shifting to the astral plane.

“Or you could do that,” he informs the empty air. “Bloody Hell! Mazikeen, wait!”

He jumps after her, instinctually spreading his own wings. The wind carries away his laughter as he chases after his reckless demon.

* * *

LUX thrums with music and flashing lights; it’s a weeknight but the floor is packed to its maximum capacity anyway. Lured in by the atmosphere, the patrons indulge in drinking and dancing, throwing aside worries plaguing their lives.

Lucifer surveys his kingdom from a private booth, happily soaking in the jubilant energy of the crowd.

“This place really is something else, luv,” says his new friend, John, not taking his eyes off the LUX’s dancers.

“Cheeky…" grins delighted Lucifer. Not many people have the stones to call him 'luv' while knowing he's, indeed, the Devil himself. "Hm, I could swear I have heard your dulcet tones somewhere before. Wait a moment…" Lucifer’s smile widens when he recalls a certain punk band. "Mucous Membrane! Was that it?”

“Oh, I wasn’t aware I’ve acquired such a distinguished fan-base. I’m flattered," John winks mischievously. "I would’ve bought you a drink, had I known.”

“I take something of a personal interest in music... any music,” informs him Lucifer. “And no offense, darling, but by a comparison with your singing even mating calls of the hellbeasts sound melodious.”

“How dare you... I’ll have you know that we were a legend back in the day," complains John, putting a hand over his heart in a mock offense. "And here I’ve come to warn you that some people might want to get close to you or your brother to deceive you for their own gain. Who knows... there might be some trouble brewing.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful," chirps Lucifer, enthusiastically clapping his hands. "Life would be so boring without trouble. Really, if there were none, we’d have to find some.”

He’s quite interested in what his guest has to say... but it simply wouldn’t do to appear too eager. Information – as everything in this world – has its price and Lucifer has no intention of overpaying.

“I hope your brother shares this attitude,” says John casually but there’s an assessing gleam in his eyes. He’s clearly testing the waters, searching for potential pressure points. “From what I’ve gathered, not everyone is happy with him.”

Lucifer reclines more comfortably on the couch, stretching his long legs under the table.

“If you mean the brother who shares my devilishly good looks but none of my impeccable taste, then I’d be more worried about any individuals moronic enough to cross him," he says with a lazy smirk. "He has a bad habit of playing with his food when bored.”

John shakes his head, tutting with reproach.

“Eh, you old powers…" he sighs and takes a drag on his cigarette. "Always so arrogant, always so surprised when some puny mortal pulls a fast one on you. You should ask good ole’ Dream how well that went for him.”

“Ah, yes, poor Morpheus…" the Devil nods sagely. John’s obviously trying to plant a seed of doubt in his mind, so let’s play along... "He’s never been the same afterward.” [1]

“People can turn nasty when their immortal souls are at stake,” points out John and Lucifer’s heart sinks. “But far be it for me to tell the Devil how to conduct his business,” continues John. He waves his hand airily toward the dance floor and LUX in general. “Still, it’d be a bloody shame if someone messed all that up. You seem so cozy here.”

Lucifer only hums noncommittally, his mind far away. John overplayed his hand and revealed too much. The number of the _officially _damned people who are still walking the Earth isn’t large – as the former ruler of the underworld the Devil knows of them all – and even fewer of them have reasons to hold a grudge against Michael. It doesn’t take Sherlock Holmes to make an educated guess here.

Of course, Lucifer has no intention of blindly believing John. He wasn’t created yesterday after all.

He puts on his most charming smile and steals a Silk Cut from John’s mouth. He leans closer into his personal space in a slow, seductive move.

“And, I suppose, you have a vast interest in making sure that nothing untoward happens,” Lucifer purrs, taking a drag on the cigarette.

He can practically taste John’s desire. His pupils dilate and he has to swallow harshly few times before he answers with a forced nonchalance:

“I might be persuaded, Morningstar. It depends on what you’re offering.”

“And what do you desire?” presses Lucifer.

John freezes like a deer in highlights at a touch of the Devil’s power.

“I, uh... I want...” then he blinks and sucks in a sharp breath with a hiss. “I want only a small favor from you. Nothing fancy really, luv.”

Lucifer’s torn between being disappointed and somehow impressed. John didn’t lie but managed to withhold any further details and that’s not something many humans are capable of. Of course, it doesn’t make Lucifer any more inclined to write a blank check for him.

It’s a high time to remind the human that the Devil isn’t to be underestimated.

“Hm, do you always bring a party like this with yourself?” he asks in a voice like velvet.

“And there’s plenty more where it comes from,” assures John, still so close there’s nothing but a breath between them.

“I do not doubt that...” drawls Lucifer. “But I meant those sorry buggers following you everywhere like body odor.” John’s eyes widen in shock but the Devil continues relentlessly: “I see an old nun and a guy in a cap, a few others... and the one-handed girl with eyes like stars.”

John tries to jerk away but Lucifer, fast like a snake, catches his tie, keeping him in place.

"John, John, John…” he purrs with a blend of exasperation and fondness. “We’re determined to avoid damnation at all cost, aren’t we? Do you have any idea how many generations of your family I've met in circumstances exactly like this? Always trying to charm, bribe or blackmail your way out of Hell… And each of you thinks they’re oh so clever.”

Unlike the majority of humankind, the Constantines are professionals in their dealings with everything extramundane. Unfortunately for them though, regardless of their successes, they’re also notorious for leaving a trail of bodies in their wake.

By the looks of it, John’s faithfully continued the tradition of his ancestors. The specters Lucifer noticed around him aren’t ghosts, per se – they’re nothing more than echoes, anchored to John by his guilty conscience. The Devil assumes they’re the people whom he failed to save... or whom he screwed up for his own purposes and led them to their untimely demise.

It’s always a toss of a coin with the Constantines.

“Still, in general terms, I think you do splendid work, so I have something of the family discount for you,” announces Lucifer, after letting John sweat for a while. “If you end up in my basement, give me a call. I'll pop down to reevaluate. Perhaps, I'll pull some strings in Heaven for your sake... Or perhaps I won’t. Depends on the state of your soul,” he pats John’s cheek, simultaneously as a caress and a warning, before finally releasing him. “I don't play favorites when I’m on duty, darling. Sorry."

Johns straightens, swiftly stepping outside of the Devil’s reach. He’s considerably more composed than the most mortals would be in his situation. There’s a wry smirk, twisting his lips. He’s a too experienced player to not realize that he’s lost this round... if he ever intended to win. It’s quite possible he only wanted to make his introductions or reconnaissance in the Devil’s domain. Dad only knows...

"It’s a date then, luv," John says with a facetious salute.

Lucifer decides wryly that in his case doing some time in a hell-loop might be recommended. If he’s allowed a pass through the Pearly Gates too easily, he’d probably get suspicious and start wreaking havoc. Admittedly, it’d be pretty entertaining to unleash him on the angels since none of them is equipped to deal with the likes of him...

With a mocking bow, John turns to leave but Lucifer’s voice stops him:

"Thanks for the warning, by the way,” he says. “Feel free to enjoy drinks on me tonight."

John grins and disappears in the crowd. Lucifer sighs mournfully as he watches his retreating form – if his 8 pm meeting wasn’t fast approaching, he’d put more effort into seducing him. Some of John’s ancestors were astoundingly inventive between the sheets and Lucifer’s curious if that’s the case with their latest specimen as well...

The prickling sensation of someone staring at him intently snaps Lucifer out of his pleasant musings.

“Come closer, don’t be shy,” he encourages, not looking up from his glass of whiskey. “I invited you, after all.”

Despite the loud music, his ears easily pick up her hesitant steps as Chloe makes her way toward him. He greets her with a cool, distant smile he has normally reserved for the conclaves of the archangels and others equally fun occasions. She takes a sit stiffly, not taking her eyes off him even for a moment.

“So... how’s life been treating you?” Lucifer starts genially, pretending to not notice the tension.

“Fine. Thank you,” she replies curtly.

The Devil’s smile takes on a harder edge.

“Perhaps you’ve made some new friends?” he asks casually.

Chloe freezes, realizing his question isn’t by any chance random.

“I talked with some witches,” she admits. “I’m trying to learn as much as I can about the supernatural.” She shots him a look. “You know, I don't want to be caught unawares again in a situation where I can’t make an informed decision simply because I don’t know enough.”

Lucifer arches one eyebrow, not dignifying the jab with any other response. Nothing but Chloe’s own prejudices prevented her from seeking the truth. He’s done with taking responsibility for that.

He’s also hesitant to trust her claims that she’s only seeking knowledge. His powers don’t work on her, so he has no way of verifying that and John implied something more sinister. Admittedly, he was purposefully vague in his wording – probably to avoid angering the Devil with outright lies – but Lucifer’s not willing to take any chances.

He knows better than to trust either of them. Thanks to both Heaven and Hell he’s gotten used to people trying to deceive and manipulate him for their own gain. He doesn’t take it personally anymore from the likes of John but Chloe was something else to him – she was his friend. For the first time in a very, very long time he took a leap of faith and trusted someone, their friendship... and she backstabbed him in return.

So far Chloe’s done precious little to earn his forgiveness, let alone his trust. And since Lucifer’s not a saint, he’s in no way or form obliged to turn the other cheek.

“Do not meddle in the affairs of wizards, for they are subtle and quick to anger,” he announces finally.

Chloe opens her mouth to replay but then she frowns.

“Did you just... quote ‘The Lord of the Rings’?” she asks in disbelief.

“Tolkien knew what he was talking about,” Lucifer’s lips twist in a wistful smile but he sobers up quickly. “A word to the wise, dearie... be careful if you intend on getting entangled with the occult circles. In the games of the immortals and mages, you win or you die... [2] Or worse. Much worse. There’s no hand-holding period for amateurs, as you should realize by now.”

Chloe nods sharply, her ponytail bouncing.

“Noted.”

Lucifer leans back, not seeing a point in pursuing the subject any further. Chloe’s free to look for troubles if she so wishes... as long as she refrains from dragging him – or those under his care – into them.

And speaking of, he didn’t invite her to LUX to discuss the risks involved with pursuing a career as Harry Potter’s wannabe. Before he’ll risk his life, he has to make sure he’ll be able to keep his promise to Gabriel.

“Anyway... how is my baby brother doing these days?” he inquires lightly. “I hope he didn’t traumatize you singing Christmas carols in tongues?”

The jokes on the subject are slowly getting old after approximately two thousand years but why waste any opportunity?

For obvious reasons, Lucifer wasn’t present when the Annunciation drama played out but he received a detailed report from disgruntled Michael who in turn grilled Gabriel. Apparently, instead of simply informing Mariam that she’ll give birth to the next prophet, the blonde archangel got into unnecessary technical details. As a result, the poor girl somehow got the impression that her son will be a god.

No-one in the celestial family was impressed with this development or Gabriel who swore up and down that he has no idea how or why that happened.

Predictably, Chloe isn’t amused.

“No, he asked what a pimp is instead. In front of Trixie,” she informs Lucifer who almost chocks on his whiskey.

“Oh, how I wish I was a fly on the wall when that happened...” he chortles, nodding approvingly. Thanks to him Trixie wanted to know what a ‘hooker’ means; it’s nice to know Gabriel continues the family tradition, even unwittingly. “You go, bro.”

“That’s not funny,” grumbles Chloe, petulantly crossing her arms over her chest.

Her glare causes Lucifer’s mirth to fade quickly as he can easily imagine her likely reaction to Gabriel’s question. Chloe never possessed much in terms of grace when faced with any behavior she doesn’t deem appropriate. He can only hope his brother didn’t earn himself too harsh scolding.

After all, asking questions isn’t a bad propensity to have, especially in an angel. It’d be a damn shame to discourage it now.

“He put the dish soap instead of the fabric conditioner into the washing machine,” Chloe complains when Lucifer keeps staring at her silently.

“I hope you enjoyed the bubbles,” he comments dryly.

“He told my elderly neighbor that praying for the dead is entirely pointless,” Chloe continues her tale of woe.

“Oh, he’s right about that,” the Devil nods seriously. “Do you have any idea how many times I got punched in the face for pointing that out on the funerals?”

“Please, tell me you’re joking...” Chloe stares at him incredulously but then she rolls her eyes. “Of course, you’re not.”

Lucifer waves his hand dismissively. He has no interest in coddling the fragile sensibilities of mortals. Why bother? He knows how many of them only put on the pretenses of piety to hide their indifference. He detests the hypocrisy of those who only offer their _ precious _ ‘thoughts and prayers’ to gain social points while, in truth, remaining idle and unhelpful in any meaningful way.

“So, saintly little Gabe corrupts the young, scandalizes the elderly and is a pest all around,” he summarizes. “I’m prodigiously proud of him. What’s next? He’ll start dating demons like Amenadiel? Oh, they’re growing up so fast...” the Devil coos, making a show of wiping nonexistent tears from his eyes. “It’s adorable.”

“Adorable?” scoffs Chloe. “He’s being an asshole on purpose.”

“Well, that’s a family trait,” shrugs lazily Lucifer. “Don’t be too harsh on him,” he adds more seriously. “He’s genuinely clueless about local customs.”

“Forgive me but I have a hard time believing someone can be this ignorant,” she protests. “Under what rock he’s spent all his life under?”

Lucifer stifles a sigh. Humans (especially Americans) always arrogantly assume they’re the center of the universe and the main focus of all the-powers-that-be. Frankly, their attitude is starting to lose its entertainment value and bore him instead.

Additionally, now he feels obliged to defend his obnoxious little shit of a brother. Wonderful.

“I’ll have you know that, contrary to the popular belief, the angels don’t sit on the cloud watching humans,” he points out dryly. “Gabriel’s duty was to handle Heaven’s inter-dimensional affairs, so he hasn’t had any reason nor need to visit Earth more often than maybe trice per century. Of-bloody-course, he doesn’t know much about life in the United States of America in the XXI century. Why would he?”

Lucifer looks away from Chloe, opting to gaze at the crowd of LUX’s patrons instead. He’s not really seeing any of them anyway as his thoughts turn inwards, following the strange twists and turns of his own life.

“It isn’t easy to survive without any help in a foreign place you don’t understand,” he adds more softly, a note of melancholy creeping into his tone. “Why do you think I asked you to look after him?”

Chloe doesn’t respond, her lips pursed into an unhappy line. As he watches her he feels like his initial misgivings about the wisdom of leaving Gabriel with her are starting to resurface.

Not that Lucifer owes him anything, except maybe a punch to the face. Gabriel is pretty much the archetype of the middle child syndrome with a tendency to be an insufferable brat but their relationship wasn’t always so strained. He was created only two thousand years after the twins so they practically grew up together; they worked side by side when the world has been made. Now he’s undeniably a huge pain in Lucifer’s arse but he’s also more to him than merely another face in the winged crowd of countless angels. They were family, once.

Besides, no matter how much the Devil enjoys an occasional bit of Schadenfreude, he considers it distasteful to kick someone who’s already... fallen.

Perhaps, he’s getting sentimental in his old age but he’s not ready yet to write Gabriel off as a lost cause. Who knows, perhaps away from Silver City he has a chance to become his own person, to develop thoughts and opinions that were not put into his head by Dad. Maybe he’ll realize there’s more to him than merely being God’s mouthpiece. 

If Amenadiel – the Firstborn and formerly Father’s most loyal soldier – managed, why deny Gabriel the same chance?

“What’s he up to those days?” asks Lucifer. “I hope he doesn’t mope constantly over Dad giving him the boot?”

“He’s been, ah... spending some time in a church,” Chloe says reluctantly.

Only a minor miracle spares his suit from being drenched when startled Lucifer almost spills whiskey all over himself. He glares indignantly at the golden liquid hovering inches above his thighs, suspended midair by his will. He sends it back to the glass with a bit more impetus than strictly necessary but he pays it no more mind, too flummoxed to care.

“He’s been doing what now?” he asks very grammatically.

“Why are you so surprised?” Chloe deflects.

“Because Gabriel despises religion almost as much as yours truly,” explains Lucifer slowly. “I’m fairly certain it’s the only thing we fully agree on.”

In the majority of the cases, Dad’s messages to humankind went along the lines of: ‘thou shalt not kill’ or ‘thou shalt have no other gods before me’. What humans have done with that is history and – according to what God told Lucifer during his last visit in Silver City – the chances of it going any better were practically nonexistent. Gabriel received some grief from Him nevertheless, and, in turn, he threw the blame at Lucifer. Humans being humans were quick to jump at any opportunity to hate someone for perceived wrongs and so it went downhill from there.

It was a very hot day in Hell when the Devil has heard about that from some unfortunate soul... He understands his brother’s bitterness but he doesn’t appreciate being turned into a scapegoat.

“Did he mention what possessed him to go to a church?” he questions pensively.

He can’t imagine any _sane _reason why Gabriel would willingly visit a place being an embodiment of what he considers to be one of his worst failures. It doesn’t sound like the fun kind of masochism Lucifer approves of.

“He didn’t say much,” Chloe shifts nervously.

“Oh, didn’t he now?” the Devil drawls, his dark eyes narrowing into suspicious slits. “Please, do tell, how’s that possible, considering how much he loves the sound of his own voice? Did you threaten to shoot him if he won’t shut up?”

“Of course not,” she protests vehemently. “He mentioned though that Michael withheld Heaven’s support for all religions?” she adds quickly. “Why would he do that?”

Lucifer tilts his head, staring at her inquisitively but then he grins with false cheer, indulging her. She’s welcome to keep her secrets... for now.

It’s not like he has any intention of believing anything she says without double-checking her every word.

“Michael didn’t. _ We _ did,” he explains absently, playing with his glass. “Dad hasn’t ordered appointing another prophet since Muhammad, so we’ve taken the liberty of enforcing the full separation of the mortal world from what’s divine. Only a few angels with some God-given tasks, like Azrael, still operate on Earth. This way the humankind can finally grow out of its diapers... or annihilate itself,” his smile turns icy. “Whichever happens first. The betting pool is still open if you’re interested in joining.”

It never failed to amuse him how passionately Amenadiel lectured him on the subject of not exposing humans to the divine, completely oblivious to the fact that Lucifer co-authored this particular policy. Still, it’d be unseemly for the Devil to comply with the heavenly directives so he misbehaved on purpose, gleefully driving his eldest brother nuts.

“So what’s even the point of praying to any of you?” asks dismayed Chloe.

“None whatsoever,” states Lucifer cheerfully. “The majority of the angels, myself including, have the humankind on the permanent ignore.”

Why would he torment himself by listening to the filth humankind steadily throws at him every day, every age? Instead, he chose to hear only handpicked few, like the little rascal otherwise known as Beatrice.

Or Patrick...

A half-whispered, half-prayed call of: “Boss,” catches Lucifer’s attention causing him to immediately turn his head toward the bartender. Patrick isn’t even looking at him, entirely focused on a guy sneakily slipping something into a drink standing in front of an oblivious lady. Lucifer sees red and a low growl escapes him when he realizes what’s happening. He wastes no time teleporting himself to the bar.

“Oh, no, darling,” he says with forced calm, gently touching a wrist of the young woman, stopping her from grabbing the poisoned drink. “Drinking that isn’t a good idea.”

The woman blinks at him, obviously confused but still not alarmed or aware of the danger she’s found herself in. Lucifer feels an odd pang in his heart for her but pushes it out of his mind. He nods at Patrick in thanks for alerting him, trusting he’ll make sure that the woman is alright.

The Devil has something else to take care of. There’s a sinner awaiting his punishment after all.

The guy, realizing he’s got spotted, tries to escape but Lucifer catches him by the collar of his shirt.

“As much as I love sweet sin, I do not condone it when it violates someone else’s right to consent,” he announces in a falsely light tone.

“Let go of me, you dick!” cries the guy, struggling to escape. “I haven’t done anything.”

It takes a heroic effort from Lucifer to swallow the fury rising in him like a dark tide. He barely resists the desire to crush the man like an insect that he is.

“No, but you had every intention of doing so,” he explains coolly. “And additionally you’ve disrespected _ me _ by attempting to commit such an atrocity under my roof.” He allows his eyes to fill with hellfire as he leans menacingly toward the guy. “I think some punishment is due. Say... the permanent loss of sexual potency. [3]”

His power surges making his sentence come to pass. The guy turns pale like a graveyard fog when the seriousness of his predicament finally downs on him.

“W-what...?!” he sputters.

Lucifer bares his teeth in a sharp smile, his eyes still burning with merciless crimson. He has no doubt whatsoever that any punishment the human law has in store for this man wouldn’t be enough to deter him from trying again. The next time he’d probably pick a place less secure than LUX and there’s no telling how wrong things could go then. To make sure that won’t happen, the Devil took care of the problem. Permanently. 

Not bothering to hide his disgust he pushes the guy into the awaiting arms of the two members of the LUX’s security who appeared as if summoned by magic.

“You know what to do,” he addresses them when they roughly grab the shaking and whining guy. “Now, be so kind as to take this garbage out of my sight. Thank you.”

They nod wordlessly and drag away the guy who seems on a verge of fainting. Neither they nor Lucifer bothers with explanations that they’ll only take his mug-shot to ensure he’ll never again set a foot in LUX and then they’ll turn him over to the authorities. If the guy’s assuming, they’re going to put him to sleep with fishes... well, he’s free to do so. Hopefully, this scare and the direct divine intervention will be enough to make him rethink his life decisions. If not, Hell is always ready for new tenants.

Patrick pushes a fresh glass of whiskey toward Lucifer who accepts it gratefully. It hasn’t escaped his attention that his employees didn’t even blink when he appeared from the thin air or when his eyes turned red. He’s not surprised – considering how much weirdness they face daily, it’d be impossible for them to not figure out by now that he’s not a human. Those who couldn’t handle that revelation quitted long ago, the rest presumably knows but doesn’t give a damn.

This thought makes Lucifer smile to himself.

He’s about to go check on the woman who almost got roofied when suddenly he senses another presence by his side. He tenses almost imperceptibly, smoothing down his futures into a neutral expression.

“So this is what you’ve been doing to all the suspects...?” asks Chloe with a small smile.

“Depends,” he admits, leveling her with a distant look. “Each case deserves an individual approach. Hell is all about personalized customer service after all.”

She nods slowly, watching him with mournful eyes. 

“We had some good times chasing criminals together,” she muses.

“Yes, we _had_,” he agrees frostily. 

Well, at least until Chloe’s done to him something approximately as deplorable as what the punished guy attempted. Her prior claims of love or half-arsed apologies and excuses don’t make it any better.

Unfortunately, thanks to their shared history Chloe knows him and she quickly picks on his darkening demeanor. She quirks her head with a small frown, watching him thoughtfully.

“You seem different,” she observes.

“No, I am who I’ve _always _been,” announces Lucifer harshly. “I had merely forgotten who that is for a time.”

He’s the Morning Star. He chooses his own path, he doesn’t orbit around anyone, be it a god or a mortal.

The problem is, the angels are social creatures by nature and Lucifer’s no exception in that regard. Shunned by his own kind, he sought company elsewhere, knowing all too well it’d be a terminally foolish idea to trust anyone in Hell. As a result, Maze was his only true friend for ages but her oath to him, while securing her allegiance, had also set their dynamic as the one of a sovereign and a vassal.

On Earth he coveted all the joy and happiness he could derive from the company of humans. Driven by the need to fit somewhere – anywhere – he subconsciously tried to be more like them... but he is not, is he?

The mortals live their mayflies lives so fast, with an intensity born out of the awareness of the fast passage of time and the unavoidable death... The sudden overflow of new experiences proved to be intoxicating even for him. He got himself so entangled in their minuscule struggles that in the process he somehow lost the perspective of himself – an immortal, ageless archangel. 

The constant presence of Michael, Maze, and Amenadiel born out of loyalty, not any sort of obligation, helped him to feel more grounded, alleviating his devastating loneliness. He’s even starting to slowly believe that maybe it’s a permanent change.

Chloe’s betrayal still pains him – she was very dear to him after all – but it’s no longer enough to shatter him.

“That day in the penthouse,” she starts carefully. “Gabriel said that I make you vulnerable. What does that mean?”

Lucifer sighs heavily, before making his decision and reaching behind the bar for a knife used to cut fruits for drinks. He stares at its sharp, shiny blade for a moment, knowing it’ll hurt like Hell if he’s wrong. Not wasting any more time he stabs his own open palm. Started Chloe yelps but instead of piercing his hand, the knife breaks harmlessly.

The Devil nods with grim satisfaction.

“_Nothing_,” he announces pushing the destroyed blade into Chloe’s trembling hands. “It means absolutely nothing. It was just another one of Dad’s bloody mind games.”

After billions of years of being ignored by God, Lucifer unwittingly lowered his guard, letting himself be taken by surprise by Dad’s miracle. Never again.

“Well, I’m afraid I took enough of your time,” he states with a bland, polite smile. “I’m sure you have other things to do than indulging little ole’ me... and I have pressing matters to attend to.”

Lucifer leaves Chloe to her own devices and heads toward the woman whose drink got spiked earlier. Judging by her somewhat shaky demeanor the bartenders told her what happened. As one of LUX’s patrons, she’s his responsibility so he needs to make sure she’ll receive all the help she can possibly need.

And after that... well, he needs to figure out his Chloe and Gabriel conundrum. His former friend told him more than she realizes and he doesn’t like what he’s found out one bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] They’re talking about the events from ‘The Sandman’. No spoilers, but I highly recommend reading that if you like Neil Gaiman’s works. 
> 
> [2] Yeah, yeah, couldn’t resist bringing “You win or you die” from ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’. 
> 
> [3] That’s a quote from ‘Lucifer: the Morningstar Option’( issue 3). Let’s just say that disrespecting the Devil wasn’t the best idea the guy ever had.


	9. Run for a Fall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael is still a mother-hen even though he’s in denial about that. Lucifer is angry. They both are trolls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m so very sorry for taking forever with this update. Let’s just say, that the real life kicked my ass six ways to Sunday and I had no energy left for being creative (anxiety, depression, the fuc*ing debt, imagine the rest). I hope, I’ll be able to post the next chapter in the September... even if I’m not, I’m not abandoning this series until it’s finished. 
> 
> I want to thank all of you who supported me with your comments and asks in my period of inactivity. I’m truly grateful, you’ve kept me motivated. It means a lot. 
> 
> The credit for the chapter title goes to Epica.

Michael stalks briskly through the nave of the church, pointedly ignoring the beautiful architecture and works of art. He despises the religious imagery and the countless misconceptions about his family it propagates.

The worst of all are the paintings of what is supposed to be  _ him _ striking down the Devil. He’d rather not chance to stumble upon one of these monstrosities as they invariably make it hard to look his twin in the eye. It doesn’t help in the slightest that spreading rumors about their alleged antagonism was Lucifer’s idea or that Michael has never laid a hand on him.

Thankfully soon he finds a corridor leading into the parts of the building usually inaccessible for the general public. A few humans he encounters give him odd looks – he doesn’t blend in well with the local crowd – but no one tries to stop him. People see only what they want to see and since he behaves as if he had a right to be here, they assume that he does. Confidence is the key as per usual.

He makes his way through the rectory and enters the greenery of the parish’s orchards; he perks up immediately at the sound of two voices in a vineyard. Soon he spots his brother and an elderly priest hiding from the sharp rays of sun in the shadow of a tool shed. The man is passionately talking about something and whatever he’s saying it’s making Gabriel seethe silently. Neither of them noticed Michael soundlessly meandering between the neat rows of vines.

“...they make it sound so reasonable but unchecked progress cannot replace the sanctified tradition. In truth, they only want to make the good people stray from the path of the pure, simple life God has shown us,” the priest carries on. He’s completely oblivious to the fact that now he’s preaching to not one but two archangels. If he only knew... “And no wonder, for even Satan disguises himself as an angel of light.” [1]

At this point, Michael decides that eavesdropping isn’t that appealing anyway. Visiting Dad’s place of worship has already put him into a foul mood; let’s not make it even worse.

“Actually, Satan doesn’t disguise himself as anything,” he points out, making his presence known. “He is  _ the _ Archangel of Light... You may even say, he’s the Yang to my Yin.”

The priest almost jumps out of his skin and whirls toward him, Gabriel, on the other hand, turns as still as a statue, his eyes large and full of apprehension.

“Michael,” he breaths.

The priest recovers quickly from his shock and gives Michael a critical once-over. Predictably he presses his lips into a thin, disapproving line at the sight of his T-shirt with: “Y'all holy rollers need Satan”.

(Lucifer didn’t appreciate his choice of the attire either. The unimpressed ‘I’m-nesting-with-an-idiot’ look on his face was one of the highlights of Michael’s morning.)

“This area isn’t available for the visitors,” the priest states sternly. “How did you even get here?”

Michael only blinks languidly, unrepentant. He follows the rules when it’s convenient for him... right now, it is not.

“Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” [2] he asks, widening his eyes innocently.

This earns him the desired effect – despite his obvious distress Gabriel snorts in amusement and then promptly tries to disguise it as coughing. The priest quickly glances between them, obviously affronted.

“God, indeed, is Father of us all but you don’t seem to be here to seek His love,” he points out stiffly, causing Michael to chuckle and shake his head. With a huff, the priest turns to Gabriel. “You know this man, I presume?”

“Oh, please, I am many things but a  _ man _ is certainly not one of them,” Michael clarifies before his brother has a chance to say a word. “I’m of a different kind entirely.”

The corners of the priest’s mouth turn downwards in a sour grimace, his distaste apparent.

“I see,” he says. “I’ll pray for your soul, perhaps merciful God will forgive you.”

Michael narrows his eyes, leveling him with a cold stare. He couldn’t care less about this man’s opinion of him but he can clearly sense that the lives of more than one person have been made miserable by his prejudices... And this, in turn, the archangel finds offensive, especially since everything the priest did, was done in the name of Heaven.

If he hadn’t been a member of the clergy, the damage he inflicts probably would be limited only to those in his close vicinity... But he’s a priest, his words carry the moral authority of his station. He doesn’t have it in him to take any actions himself but he doesn’t need to. His sermons have served well as justification and encouragement for the petty hatreds of other people.

The darkness he nourished in their hearts resembles chains interconnecting his fate with theirs; he’s like a spider who got entangled into its own net. It’s only a matter of time before that weight will drag him down... if not in this world, then in the next one.

There’s no hiding any of that from the archangel who reigns over the darkness.

“You know, I don’t think much of that little Holy Book of yours,” Michael says conversationally. “It’s hilariously inaccurate from the historical standpoint... But, putting that aside, our dear Yeshua made some great points... How that went?” He snaps his fingers, pretending to think about it. “Ah, right! Woe to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites! because you shut the Kingdom of Heaven against men; for you neither enter yourselves nor allow those who would enter to go in.” Michael’s moves are unhurried and hypnotic as he starts to close in on the transfixed priest. “Woe to you, for you traverse sea and land to make a single proselyte... and when he becomes a proselyte, you make him twice as much a child of Hell as yourselves.” [3]

Michael stops right in front of the priest and tilts his head curiously, not breaking the eye contact even for a second. He knows exactly what kind of effect he has on the people with darkened souls, the primal fear he invokes in them.

“Like a whitewashed tomb, indeed...” he declares, a note of finality in his tone. “Are you truly conceited enough to believe that there is a reward awaiting you instead of the eternal fire?”

They’re so close, he can easily see a vein pulsating frantically on the priest’s forehead and a drop of sweat rolling down his wrinkled neck. The man starts to slowly back away from him, not taking his eyes off of the impassive archangel even for a moment. He almost trips on a clump of grass only to catch his balance at the last moment.

This seems to finally snap him out of his stupor and he turns on his heel to run toward the rectory as fast as he can. He all but crashes into the door, frantically pulling at the handle... which seems to be stuck. This only increases his panic as he starts to bang on the door. He shots a terrified look over his shoulder at Michael who hasn’t bothered to move from his place.

The archangel mockingly blows a kiss into his direction, simultaneously commanding the wind to awake. The branches of the nearby trees start to move, their leaves rustle ominously; the sky is cloudless but the air darkens anyway. The tempestuous gale mercilessly lashes the priest with twigs, small stones, and dust, forcing him to cover his face with his arm.

The door finally gives away and the priest dashes into the depths of the building. At the same moment, a stone embellishment adorning the entrance to the rectory breaks with a loud crash, only to fall and shatter into pieces at the exact spot the man just left.

Michael lets the priest run – making him leave was the whole point. Of course, he could’ve accomplished that in a less dramatic way... but where would be fun in that? Admittedly, ‘The Omen’ didn’t impress him much but there’s nothing wrong with borrowing some inspiration while dealing with minor inconveniences.

He makes the wind cease and soon everything returns to normal as if nothing happened. He agreed when Lucifer told him to not overexert his powers but this display hasn’t cost him much... And hopefully, his twin will appreciate the cause enough to refrain from scolding him.

He grins at Gabriel who seems considerably happier than a few minutes ago.

“Thank you,” the younger archangel says emphatically. He shoots one last glare at the rectory. “Five more minutes of listening to his verbal diarrhea and I’d eviscerate him.”

Michael arches an eyebrow, openly amused. Gabriel isn’t the most pugnacious of the angels so when he makes threats he exudes a similar level of menace as a hissing kitten... it’s adorable.

“What was this all about?”

“Trust me, if you had spent more time with him, you’d want to smite something too,” huffs still upset Gabriel.

Michael only hums noncommittally. In his eyes, the Dad worshipers are nothing more than a reoccurring annoyance to be dealt with at leisure and ignored for the rest of the time. Unlike him, Gabriel takes their fallacies far more personally, presumably because God appointed him with a doomed to failure task of correcting them. By the time the Crucifixion happened, he was all but burned out so Michael’s decree ordering the angels to keep their distance from the mortals was like salvation to him. He mostly steered clear of the Earth ever since.

This makes his presence in the church’s vineyard of all places baffling, to put it mildly.

“I confess, I’m at a loss why you were wasting your time with that dick-wart,” says Michael, frowning. “If he was bothering you, why didn’t you just leave?”

It’s a simple question but Gabriel freezes. All traces of exasperation and amusement disappear from his face, replaced by the hopelessness from before.

“I... ah, I thought that spending some time here would be good for me,” he declares, looking everywhere but at Michael.

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are lying to me. Very, very badly...” he chides, his face a picture of the fraternal disappointment. Predictably, it makes the blonde blush fiercely and starts chewing on his lip. “Whatever it is, out with it.”

Gabriel lowers his gaze and hugs himself as if in an attempt to appear smaller.

“Why are you here, Michael?” he asks barely above a whisper, there’s a faint tremor in his voice.

Now Michael is well and truly concerned because Gabriel seems to be afraid of him... but why? Sure, their last meeting was far from pleasant but the circumstances have changed since then and Lucifer made a point of helping him after their family deserted him. And why is he so reluctant to explain what brought him to this place? It doesn’t make any sense...

Unless he managed to get himself into trouble and now he’s too afraid or ashamed to admit he needs help.

“Well, as you might know, yesterday Luci talked with Decker,” Michael replies slowly, deciding against pushing for answers right away. “Some of the things she said made us wonder, so here I am.”

His hopes that this will put his brother at ease turn out to be futile when Gabriel looks at him with eyes full of unadulterated fear.

“And has she...?” he seems to choke on his own words. He has to swallow harshly before he tries again: “Whatever she said...” He blinks quickly as if fighting tears. “Please, believe me, I was only following orders. Nothing more,” he blurts finally.

“Did you now,” drawls Michael, still not sure what this whole drama is all about.

“I had no idea what would happen,” Gabriel elaborates, now apparently unable to stop talking. “Father told me to plant the book in the Vatican for Kinley to find. I didn’t know what was in it or what it’d do to Lucifer. I didn’t, I swear.”

Michael nods.

“Would it change anything if you knew?” he asks sternly.

Gabriel averts his eyes but has enough decency or sense to not attempt deceiving him again.

“Please, don’t send me to Hell for this, brother,” he begs quietly. “Please. I’m already sorry.”

“Stop groveling! I am  _ not _ our Father,” snaps Michael a little harsher than he intended to.

He regrets that outburst immediately when the younger archangel flinches violently and takes a step back, pressing himself to the wall of the shed behind him. His eyes are tightly shut and his breathing is fast... dangerously fast as if he were on a verge of hyperventilating or a panic attack.

Michael curses silently. This spiraled out of the control fast...

“Gabriel... Gabriel, look at me,” he commands softly. He waits patiently until the fearful blue eyes meet his. “Lucifer and I, we  _ knew _ about your part in this sorry affair all along.”

This statement seems to snap Gabriel out of his terror for a moment.

“What?” he gasps.

“Amenadiel swears he didn’t deliver the ritual to the priest, so we assumed it was probably you,” Michael explains with a small shrug. Dad might work in mysterious ways but He can be such a creature of habits when it comes to whom He sends to do His work on the Earth... “Luci went to look for you despite that.”

Gabriel blinks rapidly.

“So you are not here to make me pay for that?” he asks in disbelief.

“No. Of course, not,” assures Michael, fighting the urge to roll his eyes.

By that logic, Lucifer should smite Amenadiel too for blessing Penelope’s ovaries and making Chloe possible. And what would that accomplish? What’s the point of destroying the discarded puppets when it’s the puppet-master that they’re after?

“We are worried about you,” he adds. “I’m here to make sure you’re alright, not to hurt you.”

Gabriel makes some unidentified noise of despair and slowly slides down the shed’s wall until he’s on the ground. He buries his face in his knees as if he wished to disappear, to separate himself from the whole world.

It’s Michael’s turn to remain frozen. He always aimed to be fair as a Prince of Heaven but it wasn’t his job to coddle his siblings. For his own peace of mind, he preferred to keep others – with an exception of Lucifer – at arm’s length which now leaves him feeling completely out of his element.

Still, there’s a baby sibling in a crisis to deal with so he soldiers on and slowly crouches in front of him.

“What made you think that we’d want to punish you?” he asks calmly.

“Luc’fer’s mad at me,” comes the mumbled reply after a moment of hesitation.

This time Michael raises his eyes heavenwards. Nothing but his numerous siblings could put his resolve to never pray for strength and patience under such a trial.

“Don’t you think Luci has a good reason to be angry at you for convincing everyone, even him, that he’s the evil incarnate?” he asks dryly. Only heavy silence answers him but he chooses to interpret that as an agreement. “You should realize by now, he’s not going to make you suffer for that, let alone the things you did under Dad’s orders.” He scoffs humorlessly. “I mean... until recently even we didn’t dare to  _ openly _ disobey Dad. For you it’d probably be a suicide, neither of us would ever expect you to forfeit your life like that...”

He stops talking when, instead of calming down, his brother starts to shake violently as if something frightened him far more than the possibility of Lucifer’s retribution. Michael stares at him for a moment as a suspicion settles his guts like a leaden weight.

“Gabriel, what the hell have you done?” he demands sharply.

“After you defeated us, I told Him that unless He shows me a way, I won’t be able to bring you and Lucifer to Heaven,” Gabriel says in a monotone, not bothering to lift his head. “He was...  _ displeased _ .”

“Fuck...” curses Michael, not sure if he should be more horrified or impressed.

What Gabriel did was dangerously close to questioning God’s will or – even worse – defiance. Such an offense couldn’t be left unpunished, especially in the light of the three eldest angels rebelling. No wonder he seemed terrified out of his mind that day and Dad was even more irascible than usual.

“Have you lost your bloody mind?!” Michael finally explodes after regaining the ability of coherent speech. The irony of him yelling at someone for angering God isn’t lost on him. Well, karma is definitely a bitch. He can almost hear Destiny laughing at him somewhere so he flips him a mental middle finger. “It could have easily been the last thing you ever did, you dolt. What were you thinking?”

Gabriel finally looks up at him with red-rimmed eyes.

“That  _ I _ was doomed either way,” he says, sounding completely drained out of energy. “What other option did I have left? Throwing the entire Host against you? The two of you would smite us into the next dimension and, in the process, this entire city would probably be turned into a smoking crater. And for that those of us who’d survive you, would be obliterated by Father.” A burst of bitter laughter, oddly resembling a sob, escapes him. “What would be a point of such carnage?”

Michael nods slowly because Gabriel’s not wrong in his assessment. He made reckless claims about the angels’ readiness to lay down their lives for the cause but his resolve obviously crumbled when he had to make a choice to send his brethren into a slaughter.

It’s not that surprising – Gabriel’s not ruthless enough to ignore consequences – but Michael never suspected him of having enough backbone to basically tell Dad that His expectations are unreasonable.

“Fuck,” he repeats, still reeling. “What you did... it was inadvisable but also brave.”

Gabriel is obviously stunned by this declaration.

“He was already angry at me,” he confesses. “I hoped, He’d go easier on me if I admitted defeat instead of making Him wait even longer.”

A slightly rueful smile twist Michael’s lips because if Gabriel had played his cards better, he could have won. His first mistake was focusing on the pointless side-quest like making Heaven great again or trying to get his fallen brothers to surrender, completely missing the fact that they’re past the point of no return. The second one was giving Lucifer time to recover after Hell instead of striking when he was at his most vulnerable. Decker was the key to success, true, but who gives a damn if she collaborated willingly or not? The only thing Gabriel figured out right was using the Devil as the leverage to force Michel to surrender – his twin is the only person he loves more than himself, he’d have no choice – but that tactic would be far more effective if Lucifer was at the time imprisoned in Heaven. After subduing them, overpowering Amenadiel would be a matter of time.

Thankfully for them, Gabriel always lacked the tactical sense to come up with a more feasible plan than a highly volatile confrontation with far too many variables to control. He simply wasn’t the right angel for the job which begs the question of why Dad appointed him at all? And if this was indeed a test of Gabriel’s capability to run Heaven, as Lucifer suspected, then why God dragged His rebellious sons home personally instead of leaving that task for Raphael?

From Michael’s perspective, Father’s actions seem uncharacteristically chaotic, rushed even. It’s almost as if He didn’t know the outcome from the beginning, as if His omniscience wasn’t as absolute as they always assumed.

And isn’t that a curious thought indeed...

“Michael?” Gabriel asks tentatively.

The older archangel blinks, realizing he spaced out completely for a few minutes. He can’t wait to share his conclusions with the Devil but right now he needs to focus on his other brother. He gently pats Gabriel’s hand, obviously surprising him. Despite that, he doesn’t recoil from his touch which Michael takes as a good sign.

“Don’t mind Dad,” he says lightly. “He always throws a tantrum of biblical proportions when He can’t have what He wants, the second He demanded it. Just like a toddler who didn’t get candy.”

“Michael!” yelps scandalized Gabriel, glancing anxiously at the cloudless sky.

“Oh, relax,” he scoffs. “If He was blasting me into oblivion me every time I offend Him, I’d be a metaphysical anomaly by now.”

“Easy for you to say ‘relax’. If a meteorite falls on us, it’ll kill only me, not you,” complains Gabriel. “I would die...” he adds absently, his eyes taking on a horrible, haunted look. “I was waiting for death when Lucifer’s found me. Perhaps, I should have accepted my fate but... as bleak as this life seems, what comes after would be infinitely worse. Do you think... would He let that happen to me?”

It goes without saying that he doesn’t mean the Devil.

“Well, Lucifer is a walking talking answer to your question,” Michael replies quietly, trying to soften the sting of his words. “Dad didn’t do anything to help him, quite to the contrary.”

No matter how harsh is the truth, it’s still better than false hope.

Gabriel sniffs, furiously wiping his eyes. Michael diplomatically pretends to not see that he’s crying.

“I realize, I’ve offended Him with my doubts but is it really...” Suddenly the younger archangel covers his mouth as if to stop himself from voicing whatever thought that crossed his mind. If his horrified expression is any indicator, he probably was about to say something in his opinion blasphemous. For a moment he remains completely frozen before grim resignation settles. “My faith was the only thing I could offer Him since I’m pretty much useless at everything else. Now, I don’t have even that. It’s not a sin He’ll forgive me for. I’m never going back home, am I not?”

“You can reclaim your divinity at least,” points out Michael. “You only need to believe that you deserve it.”

The blonde shakes his head.

“I know, I do not.”

Michael sighs inwardly but what else could he expect? Gabriel squandered an eternity on attempts to please Father who mostly ignored him and when he finally got His attention, God has made it clear to all and sundry that He considers him worthless.

“I’m sorry,” Michael says sincerely, making a vow that one of these days he’s going to send Dad a bill for cleaning up all his messes. “We’ve always known how He treated you... I truly wish, we were able to protect you before He made you feel deficient for not meeting His impossible expectations.”

“But He’s our Lord,” protests Gabriel. “We’re His to command as He pleases.”

Michael greets his teeth. Just when he thought he’s finally getting through to him... Even after all this time other angels’ blind devotion and denial of one’s selves is inconceivable for him. As far as he is concerned, relinquishing his will and independence would be a fate far worse than the ultimate death.  _ ‘I bet, You wish, You could turn me into someone like him, only to deprive me of Your affection as the means of manipulating me, right, old man?’ _ he thinks snidely.  _ ‘Oh, how it must pain You that it’s outside of Your control... Sooner the stars will fade than I’ll let You have such a hold over me.’ _

“He cast us out, He made us live under a shadow of Hell, He violated us by burning  _ our _ wings...” Michael reminds mercilessly. “Can you look me in the eye and tell me that any of us, Lucifer including, deserved that?”

Gabriel shrinks under his harsh stare.

“I don’t know,” he says softly. “I don’t know anything anymore. Up is down and black is white. Nothing makes sense.”

Well... Michael supposes it’s a step in the right way. There’s no going back once you started to pick at the threads of something you believed to be whole and see it fall apart.

“You don’t have to figure it out alone,” he reminds. “Whether you like it or not, you’ve joined the exclusive and distinguished fallen angel club. We take care of our own.”

“Lucifer said so,” Gabriel admits. His eyes flicker to the ground before he looks at Michael sideways. “But can I trust his word?” he asks carefully. “Long ago he promised that he’ll make us a family again but he  _ lied _ . He deceived us with pretty words, only to betray and smote us for nothing but his pride.”

Michael winces at the memory of the Rebellion and the fire raining down Silver City. The events of that day have irreparably broken the faith many of their siblings had in Lucifer.

“You need to realize that we all are fallible,” he says tiredly. “For six months you had a taste of how well reasoning with Dad always goes and you were losing feathers already. We endured that for an  _ eternity _ . Well, until Lucifer... snapped. He didn’t mean for any of you to get caught in the crossfire, he never forgave himself for that. Why do you think he hasn’t retaliated against you ever since?”

“I don’t know,” Gabriel repeats miserably. “But if that’s the case then why did he...?” He stops himself abruptly, before casting another uncertain look at Michael. “So would it be alright if we left this place?”

Michael blinks, not sure where this came from. What Gabriel’s current whereabouts have to do with their accursed family drama?

“Yes, absolutely,” he assures, frowning. He looks contemplatively at the massive frame of the church towering over trees and bushes. “You never told me why are you here?”

Once again Gabriel does a perfect impression of a deer in the headlights.

“I, uh...” he stutters. “I just t-thought... never-mind. I’m probably wrong. It’s not important.”

Michael’s severely tempted to demand the answers – he knows his brother would fold like a wet towel if told sternly to do something. It’d be like firing the nukes just to kill a spider crawling on the wall... but there’s no need for that when a subtler approach can be just as effective. Besides, in the long term, a carrot brings considerably better results than a stick.

“Aright,” he agrees with a bright grin. He stands up and extends a hand to Gabriel who’s still on the ground. “If you want to leave, then let’s go.”

The younger angel seems surprised and hopeful in equal measures when he grabs his hand, letting himself be hauled up to his feet. Suddenly his face turns ashen and he sways like he were about to collapse so Michael catches him reflexively.

“Gabe, what’s wrong?” he asks concerned.

“It’s nothing,” Gabriel mutters.

Despite his claims to the otherwise, he’s still clutching his older brother like a lifeline. His eyes are squeezed shut and a fine sheen of sweat appeared on his skin, he’s obviously in pain.

“It’s definitely not nothing,” protests Michael.

He puts his hand on the back of his brother’s neck to get a more accurate feel of what’s wrong with him. His heart sinks when he realizes the extent of the damage done by their Father – Lucifer healed what he could but it wasn’t within his power to fix everything. Without his divinity, Gabriel is basically crippled and any physical labor is currently outside of his capabilities...

Which makes his presence in the church’s vineyard even more concerning. Michael’s not an expert on the gardening but he’s fairly certain it requires some heavy lifting.

“What were you thinking?” he scolds. “You really need to take better care of yourself.”

“Sorry,” breaths Gabriel, still visibly dizzy.

“Don’t apologize, just be more careful in the future, alright?” says Michael worriedly.

He wishes he could do something to ease his suffering but he doesn’t dare to try. Even on his good day he’s not skilled at healing and without the wings he managed to make things worse for  _ himself _ – it took Lucifer’s intervention to mend the damage. He’d rather not find out what his botched attempts would do to his vulnerable brother.

“Come on, it’s a high time for you to see what this lovely city has to offer,” declares Michael.

As he’s herding Gabriel toward the exit, he sends a quick prayer to Lucifer, requesting him to join them... but not yet. First, he needs to get their younger brother to open up about what’s been going on with him.

Earlier it didn’t escape Michael’s attention that he didn’t start to truly panic until Decker was mentioned... Lucifer wanted to give her a chance but it appears his plan misfired somehow. Well, it was probably bound to happen, considering what a termagant she is and that the angels’ first instinct – especially when in doubt and pain – is to obey anyone capable of asserting their dominance over them.

Oh, Lucifer will not be happy with any of this...

* * *

Chloe’s pacing back and forth in her kitchen, a tight knot of anxiety growing in her stomach with every passing minute. She grabs her phone and scrolls through the list of her contacts but then she freezes with her finger hovering over Lucifer’s name. She stares at it for a moment before she puts the device back on the counter with a soft clunk.

She knows waiting won’t do her any good but she feels beyond apprehensive about contacting him. Not so long ago it was almost a second nature for her but now...

In an effort to distract herself, she picks up an orange from a fruit bowl. She’s about to start peeling it off when a loud whoosh of the wings and gust of wind make her lose her grip on it. She frantically tries to catch it, her moves uncoordinated, but in the end, she only manages to send the blasted thing flying across the room. The orange hits the ground with a soft thud and rolls until it comes to a halt at the feet of two angels who’s been curiously watching it progress.

“Ah, hello, darling,” sing-songs the taller of them. Judging by his messy curls and a ridiculous t-shirt it’s Michael. “It’s so lovely to meet you.” 

He bends to pick up the orange but in the process, he lets go of Gabriel who apparently developed some foldable qualities because he immediately starts to fall. With a hissed ‘Bloody Hell!’Michael moves with lightning speed to grab both the fruit and catch his brother before he face-plants on the floor. Gabriel lands in his embrace with all the grace of a potato sack and smiles like a loon.

“Your hair look so funny,” he giggles.

He reaches, presumably to smooth Michael’s curls into some semblance of order, but the taller angel batters his hand away.

“One more comment about my looks and I’ll turn you into a carrier pigeon for the next century,” he threatens.

“Yes, please, brother,” whines Gabriel dreamily. “At least I’d have wings... I could fly again.”

“Eh, fair point,” hums Michael.

Chloe shakes her head energetically, trying to clear her thoughts. Out of all the possible outcomes of Gabriel’s disappearance this afternoon, this is not the one she expected.

“Is he... drunk?” she asks slowly. 

“Like a bus from a Woodstock Festival, I’m afraid,” confirms Michael with a huff. “Did you know it’s actually possible for an adult to get this smashed after two fruity drinks?”

Chloe stares at him incredulously.

“Yes, of course.”

“Huh...  _ we _ didn’t know,” announces Michael frowning but then he grins cheerfully. “Isn’t it wonderful that you can always learn something new even when you’re as old as we are?”

Not waiting for her replay, he starts towing swaying Gabriel toward a guestroom, apparently knowing exactly where it is even though he’s never visited her house before. The entire time the blonde angel is babbling some nonsense in a few foreign tongues simultaneously, prompting long-suffering sighs and eye rolls from his older brother.

Chloe trails after them, not sure what the hell is going on... not being able to understand what Gabriel is saying makes her anxiety worse. Suddenly, he turns to level her with a startlingly sober glare.

“I do not like you,” he declares, carefully pronouncing every word in English.

“Ah, so we’re practicing being assertive... good job,” praises amused Michael. “Keep that up and one of these days, we’ll make a proper rebel out of you.”

“Considering that I fell both metaphysically and literally whereas you managed only one of the above, in a manner of speaking, I’m already more qualified than you,” slurs Gabriel.

“You insolent little shit,” chortles Michael.

He makes a move as if he intended to unceremoniously dump his brother on the bed but he changes his mind at the last moment and lowers him gently. Gabriel immediately curls on his side but when Michael starts to pull away, a protest in a language Chloe doesn’t understand escapes him. The older angel’s dark eyes soften as he answers in the same tongue, comfortingly stroking his hair, making him relax immediately. Gabriel releases a purr like a large cat but it’s cut short by a soft snore when he falls asleep. Michael makes sure he’s out cold before he carefully covers him with a blanket.

Oddly enough the archangel’s presence doesn’t feel as ominous as it normally does – perhaps even he can’t pull off such a level of dark menace while fussing over his drunk brother.

Chloe’s not complaining – she needs some answers.

“What are you doing?” she asks, following Michael when he makes a beeline to the bathroom. 

He doesn’t spare her even a glance as he inspects the content of the bathroom cabinet.

“What does it look like?” he asks impatiently. He shakes out one painkiller from a bottle, shoots a critical glance at dozing Gabriel, and then takes a second one. “Hangover is a bitch, especially when it’s the first one you ever had. I’m fairly certain, he hasn’t even sniffed alcohol before. He’ll need these when he wakes up.”

He carries the pills and a glass of water back to the room and puts them on a nightstand. For a moment he rummages through the drawers until he finds a pen and a notebook. He starts to scribble something in an elegant script but – much to Chloe’s annoyance – he’s using an alphabet that doesn’t look like anything from this Earth.

“Yeah... I mean, what happened?” asks Chloe, crossing her arms over her chest. “I’ve got a call from a very upset father Anthony. Whatever you did to him, he thinks, you are the Devil.”

Michael finishes whatever he was writing with a flourish and then turns to her, only to roll his eyes dramatically.

“Suuure, let's blame the Devil, instead of doing some soul-searching,” he complains bitterly. “What else is new?”

“It’s not funny,” protests Chloe. “Father Anthony is an elderly man, he could’ve had a heart attack or something.”

Michael’s eyes turn icy.

“He got what he deserved and nothing more,” he proclaims. “He should be grateful, he hasn’t met the  _ real _ Devil. Mister Crispy is rather unforgettable, don’t you agree?”

Chloe can’t believe the disparaging way he talks about Lucifer.

“Seriously? Have you ever considered that your actions might affect the way people perceive Lucifer?”

Michael chuckles darkly.

“Oh, you mean, like everyone believes that the Devil can sense all the nasty little sins you humans commit? You have one guess who has that particular ability.” He bares his teeth in an unpleasant smile. “Just so you know, Lucifer doesn’t mind.”

“Is that’s so?” Chloe asks skeptically.

“Of course,” scoffs Michael. “Eons ago we’ve made a pact to follow the same code to avoid accidentally bringing dishonor onto each other. It’s a matter of mutual respect, you see.” He scowls at his own t-shirt. “Well, certain someone’s atrocious fashion choices notwithstanding.”

Once again he inspects the items he left for Gabriel, making sure everything is in order before he marches back to the kitchen. Chloe doesn’t like the idea of the archangel roaming through her home unsupervised so she trots after him. She finds him leaning casually on the kitchen counter; somehow he already found a knife and now he’s peeling off the skin of the orange he appropriated earlier.

“Before I forget, it’s Gabriel’s last night at your place,” he informs her, seemingly entirely focused on the fruit. “I decided, it’s a high time for us to start paying more attention.”

Chloe feels as though a bottom dropped out of her stomach.

“I thought you two are too busy braiding each other hair to deal with him,” she chuckles nervously.

“Oh, it’s so sweet of you to worry if we have enough time. We, indeed, look so pretty in braids,” chirps Michael. “But since neither of us has hair long enough for that, I think we’ll be able to spare him a moment.”

Chloe can’t tell if he’s laughing at her or is he’s serious... both are equally possible. One way or the other, she has more pressing problems than contemplating the twins’ domestic habits. No matter how much of a pain in the ass Gabriel is, she’s not eager to let him go – she hoped, she’ll be able to get from him more information about the afterlife and the way Heaven operates. 

What’s worse, Lucifer made it clear that he wants her to keep an eye on his idiot brother. How else is she supposed to make up for what she did to him?

Without Gabriel, she will have no cards left.

“Lucifer said it’ll be for the best if he stays with me,” she protests. “Did you ask him what he thinks?”

“He’s prone to making mistakes when you’re involved,” replays Michael with a shrug. He puts the orange peelings into a trashcan and closes it decisively before shooting her a cool look. “I’m changing it now.”

Chloe clenches her fist, irked with the way he keeps taking Lucifer’s agreement for granted.

“All that talk about mutual respect and you’re just going to undo what he tried to accomplish like it’s nothing?”

Michael munches on a slice of the orange, staring at her unblinkingly.

“My decision is final,” he declares. “I’m leaving Gabriel with you tonight only because I’d be unethical to ask him to make any choices regarding his life when he’s so inebriated. Besides, I don’t want to give him an excuse to claim that we got him drunk and then angel-napped him.”

Not for the first time, Chloe wishes she could just shoot him. 

“I can’t believe you right now,” she growls. “But what about what Lucifer wants? Has it occurred to you that despite everything that happened between us he was still willing to trust me with something? That maybe, just maybe, he misses what we had as much as I do?” She swallows harshly against a lump in her throat. “Or perhaps you simply can’t stand the fact that he was close to someone other than you.”

The archangel turns inhumanely still. Everything in the house seems to hold a breath – even noises from the outside ceased – as if expecting an explosion... which doesn’t come.

“You had been awfully leery of Lucifer’s relationship with Maze, Linda, Charlotte... even his ill-conceived bromance with Cain,” he points out. “I find it interesting that now you’re accusing someone of being territorial because let me tell you,  _ dearie _ ... you have no stones left to throw here.” 

Chloe sputters in outrage. She hadn’t been possessive, of course not, she only had Lucifer’s best interests at heart as his choices of the company were often questionable. It’s probably a literal miracle that he’s never gotten himself into any serious trouble before he met her.

“I was looking after him,” she says through gritted teeth. “And unlike you, I’ve never tried to control him.”

“Debatable,” drawls the archangel. He pops the last piece of the orange into his mouth before wiping his hands clean on the kitchen cloth. He straightens to his full height, his expression unreadable. “You’re right about one thing though: I do decide for Lucifer.” Suddenly his dark eyes start to burn with crimson red. “Because I  _ am _ Lucifer. And just so we’re clear, no-one commands me, not even God.”

Chloe knows her jaw dropped and her mouth formed a perfect ‘O’ as her thoughts come to a screeching halt.

There’s no mistaking the hellish flame in Lucifer’s eyes with Michael’s white. She’s facing the Devil himself and he’s clearly not pleased.

“What?” she gasps shocked.

Dimly she realizes that the writing was on the wall, she merely refused to see it. After all, how would Michael know where everything is in her home? He’s nowhere on her Christmas list but even she has to admit that she’s never seen him being disrespectful toward Lucifer... On the other hand, all these flippant comments fit well with the self-deprecating way the Devil often speaks about himself.

He hasn’t put more than cursory effort into pretending to be Michael, has he? Well, aside for riding his brother’s closet and a prodigious usage of the third person, and the plural... The way he spoke and behaved – hell, even his ridiculous touchiness about his looks – was all Lucifer.

The problem is that when she saw a twin who looked as if he just rolled out of a bed after a rock concert, she assumed it’s Michael. She didn’t bother to look under the surface.

Again.

“Am I not the great and terrible Deceiver?” Lucifer asks mockingly, spreading his hands. “And this is the oldest trick in my... well, our play-book. What else did you expect?”

“Why?” asks stunned Chloe.

“Oh, I wanted to hear, what you’d have to say when I’m not around,” he explains. “It was quite illuminating.”

Chloe blushes, not sure if his subterfuge made her feel more angry or humiliated.

“I thought Michael was...”

“What about him?” snaps Lucifer. “I’ve sent him because Gabriel was far less likely to throw a bitch fit in front of him. If he put some fear of himself into your preacher friend, so be it. I approve.” He pins her with a dark stare that would make an angry dragon proud. “And speaking of punishments... care to explain what gave my other brother the idea that his stay here was supposed to be one?”

Against herself she feels a rush of the adrenaline because she recognizes the expression on Lucifer’s face – she’s seen it many times when reckless suspects pissed him off on the personal level. Her heart starts to hammer as some primal instinct in her recognizes that she’s in the presence of something far more dangerous than herself.

She never thought, she’ll ever find herself on the receiving end of that – at least not from Lucifer – and it’s a chilling experience. She raises her hands in a placating gesture, realizing that the jokes are over.

“Look,” she starts carefully. “I obviously don’t get along well with Gabriel. I honestly have no idea what he thinks. Why don’t you tell me what he said and surely we’ll figure it all out...”

The Devil narrows his eyes into slits, red sparks still dancing in them.

“Oh, so it wasn’t you that isolated him from anyone who was even remotely nice to him?” he asks with deceptive calm. “Or send him to do some hard labor after I specifically told you that he’s physically incapacitated? And... oh, this one is our absolute  _ favorite _ ... made him believe that if he makes one step out of line, we’ll smite him?” The sparks in his eyes turn into a full-blown inferno. “Because, let me tell you, we truly abhor when  _ our _ names are taken in vain.”

Chloe reflexively takes a step back.

“Lucifer...”

“I promised him, he’ll be fine!” thunders Lucifer, the force of his wrath making the lights in the room dim and flicker momentarily. “Have I been speaking in tongues when I said I’d hate to be foresworn?”

Chloe flinches but decides to hold her ground.

“It’s not fair,” she protests. “Are you going to take his word over mine without even giving me a chance to explain?” Lucifer’s whole demeanor basically screams ‘the Lord is testing me’ so Chloe decides to backtrack a little. Let’s not pull the already irked Devil by his tail. “Okay, fine! Perhaps I’ve been a bit hard on him but don’t forget that he let his thugs terrorize me... Instead of admitting he did something wrong, he only makes shitty excuses for himself.”

The Devil pinches the bridge of his nose, chuckling in disbelief.

“Oh, the irony of  _ that _ coming out of your mouth just killed me,” he mutters.

Well, it counts as progress... at least, he doesn’t look as if were a breath away from setting the house on fire.

“Can you imagine what it’s like to not be able to feel safe anywhere, even in your own home?” she asks, hoping to get him to understand her position.

“Yes, as matter of fact, I do, thanks to you,” he says coldly, making her flinch. “So, you despise Gabriel... that’s perfectly understandable. I’m in awe of  _ myself _ for not smiting that little shit at least once per every century. But why haven’t you told me you can’t deal with him? I thought I’ve made it very clear that this option is on the table.”

It’s Chloe’s turn to laugh bitterly.

“It’s not that simple and you know it,” she snaps. “What choice do I really have? It was my only way of avoiding...”

She stops herself from finishing that sentence but it’s already too late.

“Avoiding what? Hell?” supplies Lucifer, suddenly looking very tired. Until this moment his anger felt almost like a physical entity filling the entire room but now it fades, leaving only sadness in its place. For some reason, it’s even worse. “You had one job... to make sure he’ll remain in a state not worse than when I left him for safekeeping. Or to be honest with me and tell me that you want him out of your hair. If you had given us grounds to believe that you genuinely wanted to make up for what you’ve done, Mike would have removed his mark.”

Chloe has an unpleasant feeling in her stomach like she just missed a step.

“I had no way of knowing it was a test,” she protests plaintively.

“Well, I have  _ never _ given anyone as obvious cheat-sheet as I did for you,” he states wearily. “But perhaps that was my mistake to believe that for once you’ll listen to what I was saying.”

His words carry a heavy note of finality that turns Chloe’s blood into ice.

“So what will happen to me now?” she asks.

“How would I know?” Lucifer shrugs. “It depends on your choices. It’s always been about what you choose.”

She blinks and when she opens her eyes, he’s gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Bible quotes: 
> 
> [1] 2 Corinthians 11:14 (RSV) 
> 
> [2] Luke 2: 49 (RSV) 
> 
> [3] Matthew 23:13-15


	10. Highway to Hell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer and Michael are confused why certain individuals consider them to be sweet. The angels are sneaky... kind of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi... So, as always this year I apologize for the long delay, let’s just say that the real life isn’t terribly inspiring at the moment. 
> 
> Secondly, I want to thank all of you for supporting me with kudos and all those wonderful comments. You’re making the continuous effort of writing worth it, without you this story would forever remain only in my head :) You rock :D And I hope you’re as safe as it's currently possible. 
> 
> I’m sorry if this chapter feels like a filler. I promised, I’d update this September and we have the November now... [fu*k!] Unfortunately, this thing got longer than I anticipated. I’ll deliver one more chapter and then there’s going to be the finale and probably an epilogue. 
> 
> The credit for the chapter’s title goes to ACDC

“Hello, everyone!” calls Lucifer, loud enough to make his voice carry over the general hubbub of the police precinct.

He beams when all present turn to him – most of them immediately do a double-take at the sight of Michael who cheerfully waves in greeting. Lucifer’s smile widens because the looks on their faces are absolutely priceless; the way people react when they see them together never fails to amuse him. He’s even ready to graciously admit that the celestial version of the copy/paste their Parents have done was one of Their best ideas.

“Hello,” he repeats, satisfied that he has everyone’s attention. With his brother at his side, the Devil descends the stairs leading to the bullpen and stops when they’re almost at the bottom. “For those who haven’t had a chance to make the acquaintance... this is Michael.”

That, predictably, earns them more than a few looks of utter disbelief.

“Pleased to meet you and, yes, our Dad has a twisted sense of humor,” says Michael as amused as Lucifer. There’s no point in explaining that they’re the original angelic set, humans wouldn’t believe them anyway.

“First of all, I wanted to thank each and every one of you,” announces the Devil addressing his former coworkers. “My crime-fighting days are over but it was my pleasure to do so in your company. As we’ve never had a chance for a proper goodbye, I’m here to invite all of you to a party at LUX this Friday... and Saturday... and probably Sunday. Drinks are on the house, obviously. Invite as many friends as you wish. The more, the merrier.”

This earns him cheers from all gathered and Lucifer has no doubt that many will take him up on that invitation. A little wistfully he realizes he’s going to miss working with them... still, this chapter of his life is irrevocably over. Hopefully, showing his appreciation for all the good times they had together will make moving on easier.

“So anyway, as a parting gift for everyone... I’ve hired a Carl’s Junior truck out in the parking lot,” carries on Lucifer, resolutely pushing away the melancholic thoughts. “Free burgers for you all.” [1]

The crowd erupts in another round of applause, reminding Lucifer that the way to the police-peoples’ hearts is through their stomachs. Amused, he makes a mental note to make sure that there’ll be an endless supply of donuts at the party.

And speaking of the sugary snacks... the Devil grins mischievously when he notices his favorite Douche lurking somewhere in the background.

“Oh, and, Daniel, for the old times’ sake, specially for you, I’ve had a stash of pudding delivered to the precinct’s fridge. I’m sure you’ll know what to do with it.”

Daniel blushes and waves his hand awkwardly when his colleagues whoop and laugh – his love for the gooey dessert is well known, just as Lucifer’s habit of liberating it from him.

Still grinning from ear to ear the Devil moves to mingle, reminiscing fondly the good times he had with those people. He hopes that even when his goodbye party will be long over they’ll continue to visit LUX...

Well, not all of them though. He’s more relieved than he’d like to admit that Chloe is nowhere in sight. Finding himself in her presence no longer fills him with dread but he has no desire to talk to her, not now when he’s so furious at her.

After all... how _dare_ she?

How dare she expect absolution from him while, at the same time, taking every opportunity to punish Gabriel, even at the cost of breaking the promise to look after him? How dare she assume that the harm she caused in cold blood is somewhat less relevant or deserving of penance than the wrongs done to _her_?

‘Do to others as you would have them do to you...’ [2] is not an empty phrase for the Devil. He put Chloe on trial by giving her power over her own trespasser and she failed that test miserably. It is not something he can overlook, the hypocrisy of her actions is too galling for the Punisher in him.

Admittedly, he probably shouldn’t be surprised. He knows how fiercely she can hold grudges when she feels personally wronged but Gabriel wasn’t hers to punish. Lucifer didn’t expect her to befriend the archangel or forgive him but was it too much to ask from her to _not_ purposefully make his life even more miserable?

To think that he held such hopes that spending some time in each other’s company would inspire at least some self-reflection in those two. In both of their cases what led to their downfall was a blind conviction that the supposed righteousness of their respective causes justified the means employed to achieve them. Too late – if at all – came the realization that good intentions don’t make the consequences of the wrongs committed any less real or painful.

And, on top of everything else, Chloe just had to go and insult Michael... Lucifer does not take well to anyone speaking ill of his beloved brother – no-one but he is allowed to insult him.

“Luce! Mike!”

Snapped from his ruminations, Lucifer doesn’t have time to prepare before a ball of exuberant energy, otherwise known as Ella Lopez, practically catapults herself at them. He lets out an undignified squawk when she envelops both him and Michael in an enthusiastic hug, her impetus almost making them knock their heads together above her. The twins exchange horrified glances as they’re trying to subtly squirm away but it seems that the tiny forensic scientist is much stronger than she appears.

“There, there,” mutters Michael, awkwardly patting her head in hopes of appeasing her.

When it doesn’t earn them their freedom, he widens his eyes at Lucifer, urging him to intervene. The problem is that even Satan himself sees no way out of such a dire predicament.

“It’s Lucifer, not Luce,” he complains at a loss what else to do but to endure being squashed like a giant teddy-bear.

“Sorry,” grins Ella but – thank Dad! – she lets them go.

They immediately take a step back – Lucifer fussily adjusts his cufflinks while disgruntled Michael smoothes down his jacket. Judging by the way her lips twitch, Ella finds their antics entertaining.

“It’s so awesome to see you both!” she exclaims but her smile soon fades replaced by a frown. “So it’s official? You’re really not going to work with us anymore?”

“I’m afraid so, Miss Lopez,” he sighs. As much as he enjoyed the job, he has lost all the heart he had for this place. Besides he has a considerably bigger fish to fry than the mortal criminals...

In response, Ella wordlessly hugs him once again. Lucifer sighs with resignation, surrendering himself to the unavoidable, reluctantly allowing himself to relax. If he’s savoring being held by his friend a little bit, it’s only for him to know.

“Oh, we’re gonna miss you and your luciferness around here, buddy,” Ella declares into his chest. After a moment she lets him go reluctantly, smiling ruefully. “Whatever you’ll do if you’re happy, I’m happy for you.” Lucifer goes slightly cross-eyed when she sternly points a finger at him and waves it right in front of his nose. “Just don’t think that you’re getting rid of me so easily. I will visit LUX even more often now.”

“I’m counting on that,” he says candidly, marveling at a warm feeling in his chest.

“And on that note...” chimes in Michael. “We want to ask you a favor.”

“Anything,” Ella promises, her ponytail bouncing when she nods energetically. Suddenly she narrows her eyes suspiciously. “You don’t have more empty non-graves graves to check, right?” she clarifies.

“Don’t worry. They’re not empty,” deadpans Michael. “They’re filled with the skeletons from our closet.”

Ella tilts her head curiously.

“You know, when you put it like that, I’m seriously tempted to dig them out.”

“Oh, the temptation is our specialty...” drawls the archangel. 

Lucifer elbows him before he can finish that sentence or get any nefarious ideas. The bloody reprobate has the cheek to smirk at him in response.

“He’s joking,” the Devil declares quickly. “We don’t have any skeletons in our closet... And it’s definitely not because we got rid of them by burying them in unmarked graves,” he clarifies when Ella just watches him in contemplative silence. “At most, we had demons in our closet... well, them and baby dragons that one time. Our Parents weren’t happy about that.”

He’s still pretty pissed that God and Goddess didn’t allow them to keep dragon fledglings in their aerie. They weren’t worse fire hazard than the twins themselves, so what’s the harm?

“They told us to put them back where we had found them,” adds Michael, his lips forming a moue of displeasure.

“Wow, you never break the character, don’t you?” muses awed Ella. “I guess, it’s your version of hiding puppies under a bed?”

The Devil sighs inwardly. Sometimes he wishes that his human friends would know the truth about him. Still, it’s better if they remain oblivious – he’s not ready yet to suffer another heartbreak after the fiasco with Chloe.

“No graves, empty or otherwise, will be involved in this favor,” he declares firmly bringing them back on the subject. “We are simply planning a business trip after this weekend and we’d be grateful if you could check on Gabriel during our absence.”

“Oh, sure, no problem,” Ella agrees happily. “Is he still staying at Chloe’s?”

“No,” answers Michael, his eyes turning ice cold at the mention of one of his least favorite humans. “He has moved into LUX.”

They still haven’t allowed Gabriel access to the penthouse – their nest – but instead, they’ve let him stay on a different floor of the LUX tower. Much to Lucifer’s surprise, when they picked him up from Chloe’s this morning, their younger brother seemed happy (if still slightly hangover) to see them. So, apparently, his declarations from the evening before weren’t only alcohol talking...

Admittedly, Michael mishandled things a bit when he accidentally got him drunk... On the upside, it efficiently removed his inhibitions which meant he told them the truth and not what he believed they wanted to hear. Apparently, he assumed that his stay with Chloe was supposed to be some form of insidious punishment, which she was executing with the Devil’s approval. 

In retrospect, Lucifer can admit that knowing the way the angels’ mentality works, he should have predicted that. The problem is, he has spent so much time among the free species like the humans and the demons that dealing with his own kind has become an abstract concept. He’s completely forgotten that the 101 of domesticating your new, distrustful angel is to be very specific with what you want with them. Otherwise, they can easily come to a wrong conclusion and then suffer in silence for ages.

Case to the point, Gabriel completely misinterpreted the scolding he received from Lucifer after he protested (or, more precisely, threw a tantrum) that he doesn’t want to be anywhere near Chloe. What the Devil has meant then was that he won’t tolerate any more insults. What Gabriel, unfortunately, understood was that his opinion is irrelevant and that he better keep his mouth shut or else. After that he didn’t dare to complain to Lucifer, too afraid that if he ‘_disobeys_’ him by making a fuss, he’ll get kicked to the curb... again. Anything was better than that, right?

Ironically, punishing him wasn’t what the Devil had in mind; it’d be highly redundant after what dear old Dad has done to him. No, instead, he wanted to give his younger brother a lesson – a reminder that human lives are precious but oh so fragile and the likes of Sandalphon need to be kept on a tight leash around them, not left unsupervised to wreak havoc. Gabriel presumably knew all of that already, so lecturing him would be a boring waste of time. Allowing him a chance to draw his own conclusion was an entirely different matter though, so Lucifer has made sure that he and Beatrice crossed paths. The little rascal is one of those people who insistently remind the Devil that, perhaps, there’s still hope for humankind, not to mention that she’s managed to melt Mazikeen’s heart. Gabriel never stood a chance faced with her, especially since hers was one of the lives he had irresponsibly endangered.

Well, at least that last part worked out as Lucifer hoped, even if everything else went spectacularly wrong.

Thankfully, Beatrice isn’t the only person who keeps his faith in humans alive... He smiles softly at Ella.

“A word of advice, giving Gabriel any alcoholic beverages isn’t the best idea,” he tells her. “Mike can attest to that, right, brother?”

He playfully tugs at one of Michael’s curls, earning himself a sharp elbow between ribs. He only blinks innocently because what else has his twin expected? As always his prayer starting with: “Luci, I might have done a thing...” didn’t disappoint. Perhaps, it wasn’t on the same scale as the unforgettable: “Luci, I’ve found your secret stash of the fairy dust and now the Australian fauna looks funny,” but still... Summoning the Devil for reinforcements after getting their idiot brother blind drunk has made the teasing inevitable. Lucifer will cherish forever the memory of sheepish Michael fussing over Gabriel who started to see things in a few dimensions more than is humanly possible and was babbling in all languages at the same time.

“He’s exaggerating,” the archangel grumbles, shooting Lucifer a menacing glare. “But, perhaps, it’d be advisable to stick to ice-cream from now on,” he adds haughtily.

Judging by the amused glint in Ella’s eyes, she’s made an educated guess how things went.

“Advisable, huh?” she repeats, causing Michael to harrumph and petulantly cross his arms over his chest. “Alright... So, how long is going to be your trip?”

“Depends,” answers Lucifer. “If everything goes according to our plan, you probably won’t even notice that we were gone...”

“...if not, we might not return for a long time,” adds Michael glumly. Thankfully, he refrains from elaborating that it’s possible, that they might not return at all. There’s no telling what can happen, given that their ‘business trip’ will involve an unpleasant chat with God. “We honestly don’t know...”

“...but we can’t take Gabriel with us and we are worried how he’ll do when left on his own,” continues Lucifer. “You see, our family is not from this country...”

“...and he has some trouble adjusting,” says Michael. “Finding himself in the USA was a bit of culture shock to him...”

“...so it means a lot to us, that you've agreed to help,” concludes the Devil.

Ella looks back and forth between them like during a tennis match, her smile becoming incrementally wider and wider.

“Aw, you two are the sweetest,” she gushes finally.

“I beg your pardon?” they both ask in indignant unison. What about them could have possibly given her such a ludicrous impression?

“No worries, your secret is safe with me,” declares Ella with a wink. “And, yes, of course, I’ll look after your little brother. You don’t even have to ask.”

“Thank you,” says Lucifer effusively.

"We'll owe you," adds Michael.

It has bothered Lucifer more than he thought it would that Gabriel would once again be left alone if their latest scheme were to end up tragically for them. There’s always, of course, Amenadiel but he has his own nest now, not to mention issues he’s currently struggling with. Besides trusting him with the care of their baby siblings has never been the best idea.

Thanks to his I-am-the-Firstborn-hear-me-roar attitude he’s got under the skin of many angels, Gabriel is no exception here. The problem is that their younger brother’s favorite method of dealing with Amenadiel has always been insulting him from a safe distance and then making a hasty retreat to hide behind either Lucifer or Michael... Well, aside from that time when the Firstborn was worse dick than normally to Uriel and Hanael. In retribution, Gabriel threatened that he’ll use his gift of sending visions to induce Amenadiel to believe that he’s clothed while he’s naked as a babe. Instead of fulfilling that promise the blonde archangel only smirked evilly every time he saw the eldest in public, driving him crazy thorough the next century. Amenadiel frantically patting himself to check if he’s robed or not was a sight to behold.

None of that inspires in Lucifer any confidence that a fratricide won’t be committed if those two will be left unsupervised without the twins as a buffer. He’s not even sure on who he should put his money on because while Amenadiel is a considerably better fighter, Gabriel can be a sneaky bastard when irked enough. The Devil can attest to that – he’s only glad that he’s too powerful for his younger brother’s abilities to have any effect on him.

And speaking of sneaky siblings...

There’s a small ripple in the deceptive veil of reality that puts Lucifer on high alert. Frankly, he wouldn’t even have registered that if not for Michael telling him some time ago that such an occurrence might take place... and why. He exchanges glances with his twin and he knows he’s not the only one who noticed what happened.

They hurriedly say their good-byes to Ella and Lucifer nods in the direction of an interrogation room.

“There’s something, I’d like to show you,” he says. “Come on.”

“Of course,” Michael grins, immediately catching his drift.

There are no more words needed between them – they both know how they want this to play out. Without any further ado, Lucifer leads his brother to the interrogation room and closes the door behind them. They don’t want to be interrupted after all...

“Do you see it?” he asks, pointing at an empty corner.

Michael slowly makes his way toward the corner and widens his eyes dramatically.

“It’s astounding,” he gasps.

“Marvelous, right?” agrees Lucifer, fighting the urge to snicker.

They both zero in on a completely empty space in the corner, obscuring the view of said space from anyone who could possibly be with them in the interrogation room...

“I cannot believe it...” Michael announces in such a histrionic manner that Lucifer has to use all of his considerable will to stop himself from cracking on the spot.

Once again they look at each other – they both can sense that their ruse has worked as planned – and they pounce back in sync. Michael blocks all possible ways of escape while Lucifer reaches to the astral plane and grabs the interloper by the collar of their robe, forcing them to reveal themselves. The air shimmers as an angel appears with a startled squeak, their wings beating frantically in an attempt to stabilize themselves.

“Hello, Azrael,” drawls the Devil.

He bites an inside of his cheek to stop himself from laughing at the shocked, wide-eyed look on her face. Oh, the poor thing did not expect to be intercepted...

“Lucifer! Michael!” Azrael awkwardly raises her hand in greeting. “Hi...”

“Snooping, aren’t we, sister?” questions Michael in a mock-stern tone.

“What? No... of course not! I would never,” Azrael protests vehemently. She quirks her head inquisitively, squinting at the empty corner they were inspecting earlier. “I was simply curious... What is it? I don’t see anything there, what’s so fascinating?” 

This time Lucifer can’t help himself and he cackles loudly. There’s plenty of truth in the saying that the curiosity killed the cat... or an angel.

“There is absolutely nothing, except for the air molecules and dust,” he informs her gleefully. “We simply wanted to get your attention.”

Her glare full of utter betrayal and reproach doesn’t help him to contain his merriment at all.

“Ugh, now I remember why I hate you both,” she complains, petulantly ruffling her feathers.

“Sure you do,” snorts Michael but then he makes a visible effort to put on his serious face. “Care to explain why are you creeping around this place?”

Azrael winces, clearly unhappy that she got caught red-handed.

“I’m not creeping around, I’m just doing my angel of death thing,” she declares.

“Oh?” Lucifer arches an eyebrow. “So someone is scheduled to die here then?”

“No!” she denies quickly. “But you never know... I’m being thorough,” she explains, nodding decisively in an obvious attempt to make herself look more convincing. Suffice to say, she fails.

“_We_ don’t know who is supposed to die, true,” admits Michael. “But _you_ do and you don’t have a habit of making empty runs so why are you really here? Checking on Ella by any chance?”

“Yeah,” she admits on a reflex. Her eyes turn hilariously round when belatedly she realizes she’s said too much. “Wait... how did you know? Not that I admit to anything.”

“Until proven otherwise, you can safely assume that I know nearly everything that’s been going on in our family,” Michael informs her, his face carefully blank.

Azrael nods timorously.

“Sure...” 

“Like, for example, I know that you’re the party responsible for that ridiculous urban legend about the Mothman,” Michael elaborates in a bored tone.

They watch as Azrael’s jaw drops, her expression a curious study of surprise, embarrassment, and shock.

“Oh dang, when you said everything, you actually meant _everything_...” she mutters horrified. “Okay, fine!” she exclaims, raising her hands. “So I befriended Ella and I’ve been checking on her from time to time. Sue me!” she challenges but then she thinks better of it. “Or wait... actually, _don’t_ sue me, please.”

“I shall take it under a consideration... _next time_ I’ll preside over the Heavenly tribunal,” Michael announces gravely.

Azrael gulps nervously, completely missing the mischievous spark in his eyes. Lucifer knows he’s only teasing her but it’s probably a time to interfere before their sister combusts spontaneously.

“Mike,” he chides, chuckling.

“Alright,” he relents with a wicked smirk. “I’ll look for someone else to torture then.”

“Have fun,” Lucifer grins.

On his way out Michael shots him a reassuring smile, knowing well that Azrael was once his favorite baby sibling. The real reason why he’s skipping on this impromptu family reunion is that she can get into trouble for talking to him as currently, he’s the one God has disowned. Lucifer makes a mental note to do something nice for him later.

Oblivious to his musings, Azrael thoughtfully stares at the door Michael closed behind him.

“Are you sure encouraging him was a good idea?” she inquires.

“What’s the worst thing he can do here?” Lucifer shrugs, rolling his eyes again. “Give the Douche an awkward hard-on, thus making him question his sexuality?”

“If you say so,” acquiesces Azrael before pointing at him dramatically. “But this is exactly why we need _you_. I hoped that he would chill a bit since you two put the old band back together but nooo... no such luck apparently.”

For a moment Lucifer fears that he might sprain something if he rolls his eyes one more time.

“Whatever do you mean? He is... chilled, as you put it,” he states flatly.

He chooses not to enlighten Azrael that back in the day, while they were managing their family, they’ve practically invented the good cop/bad cop tactic. Lucifer was the one who usually assumed the role of the former which is quite ironic, considering that later on he’s become the Devil. Some, like Raphael, has seen right through their games but most remained oblivious, naively believing that he’s the nicer one out of their dynamic duo... Michael’s fiery temper and occasional dark moods haven’t exactly helped to dispel that misapprehension.

Lucifer sighs explosively when Azrael continues to stare at him in disbelief. She’s by no means the only angel who decided to play a guardian of some mortal even though such practices have been prohibited. Despite that Michael tended to turn a blind eye as long as the divinity wasn’t revealed to humans which is another of the things the heavenly proletariat is blessedly unaware of.

“If Mike wanted to charge you with anything, he would do so years ago,” Lucifer points out patiently. “And you do realize that we _both_ are retired, right? You’re not answerable to either of us anymore.”

Azrael blinks, her abashed countenance suggesting that she indeed forgot momentarily.

“Ugh! He’s such an ass-ss... asparagus!” she amends quickly when Lucifer narrows his eyes in a silent warning. “I totally wanted to say: asparagus.”

The Devil closes his eyes in silent despair. Whatever else can be said about the angels, they definitely aren’t the most subtle of God’s creatures... or maybe that just goes for the significantly younger siblings?

“So you wanted to see how Miss Lopez is doing?” he changes the subject in an attempt to save what’s still left of his sanity.

“Yeah,” admits Azrael, obviously relieved she doesn’t have to elaborate on the utter absurdity of calling Michael asparagus. “Well, you’ve met Ella, she’s just so... so bright. But I’m kind of worried now.” A small frown appears between her brows, her apprehension clear as day to him. “Are you sure it’s a good thing that she’s going to spend more time around Gabriel? What if he tells her something he really, really shouldn’t?”

“I’d say, he’s probably the last angel to reveal who we are,” Lucifer states dryly. “He’s been so vocal with his views on the subject that even _I_ know what he thinks and I’ve spent most of my time in Hell.”

Azrael doesn’t seem reassured at all.

“But what if?” she insists. “I’m the angel of death. Humans usually don’t react well to that, you know.”

Lucifer blinks languidly completely unimpressed.

“Well, I’m certain that nothing will change, even if something possesses Gabriel to air the family’s dirty laundry without any other proof than his word,” he says. “For years I’ve been telling everyone here who and what I am but no-one _ever_ believes me. Hell, give it a few more centuries and when I’ll show my Devil face, humans will probably ask if I have a bad skin condition.”

He shakes his head, amused with humankind’s ability to rationalize even the most obvious paranormal phenomena... But, of course, it’s one of the things they hoped to achieve when they enforced the policy of separation of the mundane from the divine. Unfortunately, the mortals are beyond creative when it comes to inventing excuses to murder and torment each other, even with the religious frenzy removed from the equation.

Regardless of circumstances, Hell will always be needed as the place of eternal punishment for the wrongdoers... That awareness weighs heavily on Lucifer because without his supervision it will devour anyone who will end up there with no regard for their guilt or innocence.

He forcefully pushes away morose thoughts and smiles at Azrael who still seems far too anxious for his liking. So many ages have passed but apparently, his urge to cheer her up has never faded.

“I don’t think you’re giving Miss Lopez enough credit,” he adds softly. “Even if she will find out who you really are... how could anyone who _knows _you fear or despise you, Ray-Ray?”

Thorough his speech Azrael looks progressively more and more mortified until finally, her expression crumbles in remorse.

“The same could be said about _you_, Lu,” she observes sadly. “I’m such a dumbass... Here I am bitching about my problems when you have it so much worse... I’m so very sorry about what happened with Chloe. You didn’t deserve that, don’t ever think that you did.”

“It’s quite alright,” sighs Lucifer.

“No, it is not!” Azrael protests angrily, clenching her fists. With her feathers ruffled she looks like a tiny ball of righteous fury. “Do you want me to have some serious words with her?”

The Devil presses his lips into a thin line, fighting a smile. He’s not sure if he’s more touched or amused by his baby sister’s offer to defend his honor. She’s such a fierce little thing...

“That won’t be necessary but thank you, I appreciate that,” he declares solemnly.

“Well, if you’ll change your mind, I’m a prayer away,” she huffs, still outraged on his behalf but soon a hopeful smile brightens her face. “So... Dad said that you’re allowed to return home. Will you, Lu? Oh, please, tell me that you will. Please?”

Somehow annoyed, he realizes that denying her anything hasn’t become any easier despite all these years they’ve been separated...

“It’s not that simple,” he reminds her grimly.

“But it is simple, we’re family!” insists Azrael. She promptly winces guiltily at the look he levels her with. “I realize we didn’t treat you right for the longest time and I’m truly sorry for that. But after that frigging Rebellion of yours, Dad has forbidden us from seeing you, and... well...” She glares moodily at her feet before smiling at him uncertainly. “Now that I can, I’ll make it up to you, I swear. I missed you so much, Lu.”

His heart goes out to her but Lucifer remains silent for a moment carefully considering his next words.

“I promise nothing,” he declares finally. “But I will visit Silver City... soon.”

Azrael squeals in joy and jumps at him, hugging him tightly. He remains frozen, barely forcing his suddenly leaden hand to pat her back gently. He feels rotten for deceiving her – it is true that he intends to go to Heaven but he has no interest in staying there any longer than it’s absolutely necessary.

He also has no doubt whatsoever that he will once again turn his family’s entire world upside down.

One way or the other...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] That’s a quote from Lucifer’s speech from 4x5. And I really can help it but there’s “I don't know half of you half as well as I should like; and I like less than half of you half as well as you deserve,” ringing in my head. Yup, my inner LOTR nerd can’t help herself :P 
> 
> [2] That’s the Bible quote Luke 6:31 (NRSV)


End file.
